Split Blood: Rise of the Wolf (Book #2 in the Split Blood Series)

CONTENTS

~ Chapter One ~

The Rage Within – 5

~ Chapter Two ~

Half Moon – 49

~ Chapter Three ~

From Beyond the Shadows – 90

~ Chapter Four ~

Catch Me If You Can – 128

~ Chapter Five ~

Dig Deeper – 168

~ Chapter Six ~

The Revolt – 203

~ Chapter Seven ~

Too Much, Too Soon – 228

SPLIT BLOOD: RISE OF THE WOLF

A Novel by Louise Herman

eBook Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Louise Herman

http://www.louisehermanauthor.com

Published by Mystical Media Publications

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-9572969-8-5

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Books by Louise Herman

~ The Orcus Games Trilogy ~

The Orcus Games: Blood Moon

The Orcus Games: Mistress V

The Orcus Games: New Awakening

~ The Split Blood Series ~

Split Blood: The Ancient Codex – Part One

Split Blood: Rise of the Wolf

SPLIT BLOOD: RISE OF THE WOLF

Louise Herman

CHAPTER ONE

THE RAGE WITHIN

The sky was set ablaze by the masses of fireballs aimed in our direction.

We cannot escape her, Enya screamed as she swerved to the side, unable to avoid the fiery bullets, as one scorched her grey, furry bottom.

Thinking we had the advantage of knowing the forest at night and having two more legs than the furiously dark-haired witch, we thought we could outrun her wrath, but with the darkness oozing from the aura that ferociously swirled around her tall, thin frame and broke through the chilling scars covering her pale, withered face, we knew she would not give up easily.

Parting her trail, like Moses separated the Rea Sea, the trees no longer hid our furry presence as they divided to form her fiery path of fury.

Too powerful to deny her erratic control, the elements were now being manipulated by her vengeful rage in this deadly war she had created to exact her bloody revenge on her terrified, fleeing targets.

Birds hastily evacuated their nests as the midnight sky confused their flight, resulting in many crashing into others as they ended up drowning in the black, shimmering lake below. They flapped frantically as they tried to avoid their watery end; we looked on, unable to indulge in the free feast that was rapidly falling from above.

Squirrels scampered into the distance as they were forced to leave their winter supply of nuts to find safer pastures as they attempted to avoid being blasted to pieces by the volatile fire and lightning bolts this psychotic witch was firing in all directions with deadly intent.

As she continued to fire her lethal ammunition, hues of black, red and grey mist began to whirl around her, growing in intensity and speed, as we maintained our distance from the developing merciless tornado.

As we dodged the petrified forest creatures, who endeavoured to escape from this deadly magical war, the incensed witch started to get more resourceful and began to combine her fireballs with larger lightning bolts, which had a much better range.

I knew you shouldn’t have attacked her sister, Enya screamed as one of the lightning bolts hit her heel and she came tumbling to the ground with a halt.

I ran over to aid her, but I could see it was bad.

Go, save yourself before they kill you too, she screamed as the cloudy sky could not maintain her beautiful natural form any longer and the long, smoky fur paws and paranormal strength dispersed, leaving a weak, shaking, naked girl lying on the cold ground in the foetal position as her human foot watered the parched forest mud with her thick, crimson blood.

Knowing I needed to get her out of the open space and away from the other threat – the circling Lycan’s ready to collect their targets – I carefully opened my mouth and scooped her shivering frame into the warmth of my jagged jaw as I tried to avoid tasting any of her human blood.

We need to get to the fairies and get to the ‘Healing Stream of Terra’, otherwise your foot will not make it, I whispered as I bounded away to find a safe haven.

Managing to find a small ditch to the east of the increasingly determined witch, I looked around to see how much time we had before the pack detected us and alerted the witch to our new hideaway. I pressed onto her wound with my enlarged black paw and tried to apply pressure to the shattered ankle as the flowing blood drenched my fur.

Attempting to try to ignore my overwhelmed senses urging me to take delight in this tender feast, I looked around to see if my fellow brothers and sisters smelt Enya’s human blood, which would alert them to our exact location within seconds.

My eyes started to glow yellow with thirst as I struggled to control the yearning, leaning forward as the blood consumed my mind and took over my craving snout as my tongue escaped and headed in the direction of the blood pool.

Please go! Save yourself, she cried as her body started to shut down, unable to cope with the excruciating pain, and she began to spasm out of control as the blood continued to pour from the open wound.

The Lycan’s circled the fiery scene from a distance, fearing getting caught in the explosive crossfire as they initially waited to get to their fleeing fugitives.

It’s all my fault. Leave me here and run! Enya cried as she struggled to remain conscious through the severe agony.

I’ll never leave you. We’ve gone through too much to admit defeat now, I whispered as the explosions lit the midnight sky, highlighting the new close proximity of the other Lycan’s.

Sniffing the smoky air, I knew the overwhelming smell of Enya’s blood would ignite the determination in them and, as I looked around, I could feel they were only a few metres away as they frantically searched above us, slightly disorientated by the wild witch’s erratic blasts aimed all over the forest.

Enya’s eyes rolled back into her head as her breathing began to get heavier and more distorted and I knew I didn’t have a lot of time left.

Let me go. You know we shouldn’t be… she panted as the lack of breath began to affect her speech.

I knew we shouldn’t be together and I knew if we made it out of this, we would have a lot more enemies to face than just this destructive witch and these unyielding Lycan’s, but I couldn’t lose her.

It wasn’t a thought in my head.

I did not care she was a werewolf; I would go out of my way to protect her, as without her I had nothing and I was not going to let this vengeful witch and these merciless Lycan’s take her away from me.

Looking down at my forbidden quivering mate, I vowed from that moment to show this ruthless witch exactly what I should have done to her sister, Faith, if she hadn’t had her bodyguards with her and should I make it out of the forest alive, things would change and I would make it clear this Lycan would be with a werewolf regardless of the rules. There was too much at stake to let go now…

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I was never blessed with having any friends as a child and the only attention I received from girls was one of disdain and objection.

I think if we had stayed in one place long enough, the other children might have had time to get to know me instead of immediately judging me from my old, tattered clothes and desperate appearance.

You see, after my mother died, my father could not cope with the constant resentment my grandparents had for him and one day, when they suggested he leave and never come back, he agreed, but to spite them he took me with him.

With my own hatred for my father, I did not make life on the run easy for him.

Knowing he killed my mother and had taken me away from all I held dear, along with having no one to teach me about how to deal with my Lycan ‘heritage’, I constantly tried to run away; however, this failed each time as no matter how far I went I was shunned by the other Lycan’s due to my father’s despicable reputation and I would always return to him with my tail between my legs.

Literally.

Unfortunately, along with not being the most forgiving father, he refused to understand my pain and would often teach me why I should not try to escape again as the alcohol-fuelled beatings often left scars that ran deeper than my wailed skin.

After he took me away from my grandparents, we lived life on the streets as my father was unable to find a job or to stay out of debt.

We were always on the move and to help escape his inner demons, alcohol became his best friend, which (along with the occasional beating for either trying to escape or ‘drawing attention to us’) often led to drunken outbursts, which would then result in me feeling like the lead that was weighing him down on this unknown journey.

A year had gone by since my mother had passed away and I celebrated my tenth birthday without her, my grandparents or my mentor, Rafe, last week in this weird, little village.

My father couldn’t afford a cake or a party as he stated,

We don’t want to alert anyone to us. Let’s just stay low and see how it goes here. So I was happy that we managed to find shelter for my special day and dad stayed sober for the night so I didn’t have to worry about him being unable to control his morphing and going on a feeding rampage like he did in the last few towns, hence why we had to leave quickly.

Farrago was village number seven, in the north of England, but nothing changed.

Hurry up and take this to Mr Bains, he bellowed as I grabbed my holey brown boots, laced them up with the tattered string and took the brown envelope from his calloused, grubby hand.

I looked back to see a smile or some form of thankfulness, but all that stared back at me was an inebriated mess of a man, unable to sit up straight on the wooden stool so he used the wall to assist him.

As I shook this image out of my head, I ran out the door and greeted the cool, midday air with optimism.

I shouted goodbye and skipped down the cobbled road, smiling at my new neighbours as they looked at me with curious glances.

As I got to the corner, my attention was distracted for a second and I stopped for a minute and gazed in the sparkling shop window. I admired all the colourful sweets in their individual pots as I dreamt I was one of the groups of children in the shop asking the shopkeeper to give me my selected delights.

I was so distracted by the sugary treats, I didn’t realise my presence was noticed.

Get away from the window with your grubby little hands! They’ve just been cleaned! the irate shopkeeper yelled as he shooed me away like I was a begging stray dog.

The other children laughed at his outburst and pointed at me as they ran out and started throwing their unwanted hard-boiled sweets in my direction, hurling abuse as the confectionary bounced off my tender skin.

Feeling a mixture of emotions, I managed to pick up a few of their sugary ‘bullets’ before stuffing them in my holey pockets and fleeing the scene with stinging limbs and feeling deflated by the rejection.

Trying to maintain my anger, in the hope I would not encourage any more unwanted attention to myself, I wiped the tears of embarrassment from my eyes and bolted around the corner.

Mr Bains was waiting at the end of the street, at the entrance of an empty alley, and I ran straight into him and ended up at his feet with a thud.

He grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pulled me to my feet.

Panicked and disorientated, I dusted myself off as I looked up to see this menacing man glaring back at me with a yellow tint in his eerie eyes.

His six-foot stature intimidated my four-foot-six-inches height as I handed him the crumpled envelope with a shaky hand.

He opened it slowly as he inspected my frenzied nature and counted the notes.

You could be good at this game, lad. He laughed as he puffed on his half-smoked cigar and fixed his worn, black leather jacket back in place and looked around suspiciously for witnesses.

His smoky, beer-tainted breath assaulted my senses as he regarded my appearance and started ruffling through the notes again.

He knelt down and grabbed me by the shoulder as I tried to back away from this daunting stranger.

His moist palm connected with my thin, worn jacket and left the evidence of his oversized grip, as I attempted to shuffle away nervously.

I was shaking at his new close distance to me.

If you’re going to continue in this game, you’ll need to beef up. Take this and go get a burger or something, he whispered as he shoved a ten pound note into my shaky hand and walked off further into the alley, leaving me standing there, confused by his kind gesture.

Realising that he was not coming back, I ran out of the steamy, gloomy alley, excited that I did not need to wait around the back of the local restaurants today, hoping that a waiter would get the order wrong so I could enjoy some more unwanted pizza.

Feeling like I had won the lottery, I strolled into the small burger bar and smiled at the snobbish cashier.

I don’t have any time to waste on you today, little man, she said as she wafted her curly, blonde hair to one side with superiority, hoping for another customer to come in and distract her from taking my order.

Double cheeseburger, large fries, a large coke and an apple pie please, I replied, ignoring her aversion to my presence.

Shoving the ten pound note onto the counter, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Instead of begging for some old chips or a half-eaten burger, I actually had money for a real meal for once.

She grabbed the note and held it up to the light.

It’s real! she shouted to the cook. Where did you steal it from? she shouted as she leaned over the counter and grabbed me by the collar.

It’s a present from my uncle, I protested with my feet scraping on the side of the counter as she lifted me from the ground and I fought to escape her extremely strong grasp.

Unsure whether or not to believe me, she looked at the cook for his opinion on what she should do.

Money is money at the end of the day and its slow in here, so cut the kid some slack. Anyway he looks like he needs it, the cook concluded as she inspected my malnourished state, handed me the change and pointed to a corner table where she wanted me to sit.

As I looked around the empty restaurant, I felt a wave of confidence flow over me.

After three weeks of being in this town, rummaging through restaurants and shops’ dustbins for food, maybe this was a sign that things were looking up.

I paused on that thought as the cook brought the food over instead of the snobby cashier.

Enjoy your meal, little dude, he said kindly as I nodded, eager for his departure so I could taste the much needed juicy meat in my yearning mouth.

The tender flesh was torn, slashed and devoured within seconds as I gulped down the fizzy accompaniment and shoved the fries in my mouth, handfuls at a time.

Although the beef burger was not my favourite piece of meat, I knew I couldn’t risk hunting for deer again tonight as last night was too close to the farmer’s gun to jeopardise losing a limb or, even worse, my life.

Relaxing after my meal, I remembered how great it felt to sneak around my target, as the adrenaline pumped through my veins. I would smell the air to gage the gender of my prey (females were more tender as long as they were not in the mating season) and make the chase a little more interesting by letting my dinner know I was there so I could build up my appetite.

Giving the doe a head start, I would give chase for a few minutes before diving onto its back and sinking my teeth into its spine, paralysing it, to allow me to rip the tender blackstrap meat from the side of its vertebrae as I indulged on the warm blood that I relished soaking my snout in as I licked the ruby liquid out of the wound as it acted as the gravy to my evening meal of venison steak.

Devouring as much of the doe’s meat as possible before a hunter, or another pack, caught a whiff of the scent of blood and came running, I would use my final seconds to enjoy licking the remains of the warm, thick, metallic blood from the carcass before sharpening my teeth on the exposed bone and departing the blood scene, feeling satisfied, free and exhilarated.

Excited by my daydream, I accidentally dropped a few fries on the ground, making the snooty cashier look at me with disgust as she served a mother and her toddler.

Didn’t your mother ever teach you any table manners? she shouted as the customer edged away from my table, not wanting to be associated with a scruff.

Looking up from the carnage that was my food tray, I realised this town was not going to be easy to fit into or to gain friends in and I stood up, emptied my tray into the bin and turned to observe the stuck up girl.

Slowly walking over to her, I could feel my anger building uncontrollably, as it does when someone mentions my mother in a derogatory way.

I tried to shake away my natural state coming