The Best Medicine Ch. 05

"Helicopter!" Farmer shouted into her radio as a spotlight strafed the highway. "Where the fuck do they get those things?" She paused, then continued, "And why can't I have one?"

"Have you ever heard of a helicopter gang?" Alani asked. "That would just be silly."

"Good point. Werehyenas on two wheels is much more logical."

A bullet-hole appeared in the roof of the RV as someone up above opened fire. Jack threw the Princess onto the ground and covered her with his body.

"Getting a little fresh?" Vanesse asked, her heart pounding.

"Never let it be said that I can't perform under pressure," Jack replied. He glanced at Alani, who was grabbing an AK-47 from under the seat and heading towards the roof hatch at the back of the vehicle.

The islander girl popped the hatch and braced herself, feet on the ladder. "Say hello to my little friend!" she shouted and let a torrent of lead loose on the offending rotary craft.

Vanesse's eyes shot towards the ceiling. "She's up there," the elf growled angrily. "That bitch! I can sense her!"

Up above, Natasha was fidgeting in the seat next to Abraham Holmes. He had never seen her acting nervous before, and it was creepier than her normal behavior. It was almost . . . well, human.

"The Lazarus woman sees with empty eyes," the vampire was whispering. "She should not be. She went were the dark folk go, and she followed them back from the void."

Christopher Knight did not have the patience to try and unravel what the blood-sucker was babbling about. He was seeing too many lights on the horizon. "Sir, we've got to kill them and we've got to do it now. They get much closer to the city, and the risk of exposure is --"

"I am aware of the dangers," Abraham said calmly. Everything about this mission felt off to him, but he was not going to back down now. He grabbed a string of grenades from the box at his feet. "There will be no missing this time." He had to hold on for a moment as the chopper banked to avoid the hail of gunfire erupting from the roof of the RV. "That's the target," he growled, pulling a pin and hurling the spherical ball of death outward. The chop of the rotors caught it and blew it wildly off course, the explosion occurring off the side of the road.

"Pull further in front," Christopher yelled at their pilot. Then he looked at his alpha and said, "Just drop the whole line on them. Nothing is gonna survive that."

Abraham nodded, the same idea having just occurred to him. He ran a line through the pins, waited until they were right over the road, then he yanked the line and dropped a dozen grenades all at once. And then, every vehicle on the road began to peel off through the fields. "Damn it!" he screamed.

Down below, Farmer was attempting to successfully drive the metal behemoth across a field of tilled farmland. "Did they really think that I was just going to drive into their trap?" she muttered quizzically. "Oh fuck." This last was said as she realized that she was bearing straight into an embankment that was much bigger than the RV.

Farmer tried breaking, but she still hit the wall of dirt with enough force that everyone and everything in the vehicle went flying forward. The werehyenas were tough enough that they would be all right, but Vanesse's head connected with the RV's tiny table with a sickening crack.

"Vanesse!" Alani shouted, crawling over the wreckage to get to the elf. Much to her relief, Vanesse was moving and moaning. She was alive, but she was obviously not in good shape. Farmer sat up, shook her head, then started to move towards the door. Her radio, amazingly still intact, started to squawk static.

"Alani, get the Princess and get her out of here. We need to make a break for the tree line," the matriarch said, then turned the dial on the radio. "Guys, we need some protection. Those pursuers aren't so far away that they can't run over here, and that chopper has us pinned down." Even then, she heard the heavy thumping of air battering gravity into submission. She kicked the door open, grabbed a rifle from the pile of trash, then stepped outside and opened fire on the helicopter.

"Why doesn't that bitch just die?" Abraham asked angrily as he watched the survivors stumble out of the RV and head towards the woods, the Princess cradled in one set of arms. "Everyone, get ready to open --"

"Fire," Natasha muttered, her voice suddenly very clear, and very afraid.

"Yes, that's what I was going to --" Abraham watched in complete astonishment as his vampire seeress hurled herself out of a moving helicopter forty feet above the ground. Then the werewolf alpha's gaze snapped up as he saw something moving through the sky. Out there was something even darker than the night that surrounded it, and it was not alone. "Abandon ship!" he yelled, jumping out and hurtling towards the ground at a dangerous speed.

"What the hell is --" Christopher said, just in time for him to see what had scared his boss enough to jump. "By the Gods," was the last thing that the Dark Hunt's second in command would ever utter in his lifetime.

The helicopter was devoured by a ball of fire that rivaled the sun, at least in the eyes of those who bathed in its light. A number of the werewolf pursuit vehicles had managed to get past the road block and now, with wide eyes, they looked up at the darkness and saw a monster.

Flapping mighty wings, a reptilian figure easily forty feet long hovered thirty yards away from the screeching helicopter, spouting flame from the tooth-ringed maw that protruded from underneath glowing green eyes. The world around the creature seemed to be moving in slow motion, waiting patiently for the monster . . . for the dragon . . . to finish cleansing the sky of its enemy.

But when Farmer looked towards the sky, she saw something even more frightening, and much, much larger, floating in the blackness beyond the green dragon, the burning helicopter, and the fiery wreckage that had begun to rain down on them all.

"Farmer!" Jack screamed, stumbling backward with a still-groggy Vanesse in his arms.

The werehyena matriarch looked down just in time to block a clawed arm from taking her throat out. The same werewolf that she had fought before had morphed into his half-form and was attempting to finish what he had started days earlier. Alani and Doreen both morphed and engaged other werewolves that were attempting to flee the fiery fiend that flew overhead.

"Get her out of here!" Farmer shouted over her shoulder, putting some distance between her and her adversary so that she could morph to half-form. She took a couple of hard swipes before the transformation was complete, but she was used to changing in a hurry.

But Jack was not getting very far. A blur of darkness swept by and claws raked across his face, blood spraying and bone breaking as he was flung halfway across the field. Vanesse was sent tumbling towards the base of a tree, and only Alani's quick thinking kept her from impacting.

"I can still taste her," Natasha whispered, staring with an unholy desire towards the elf's still form. "I can still see the pretty doll behind the glass eyes."

"Psychotic bitch," Alani muttered, moving towards the woods only to have the vampire appear between the werehyena and relative safety.

"Give them to me," Natasha said. "I need to finish her. She should not be."

"Look who's talking." Alani was looking around desperately for some help. She could not fight this thing and protect Vanesse at the same time. But Farmer was busy, Jack was down and out, and Doreen --

"Leave her alone, bitch!" the blonde werehyena screamed as she nailed the vampire across the back with a heavy stick.

"Way to --" Alani's support was cut off as the vampire spun, ripped Doreen open from gut to throat, then turned around before the young werehyena even had a chance to blink. Alani backed up, helpless in her horror as she watched the youngest member of Joker's Wild trying to keep her intestines from spilling out. But she did not have much chance to fear for Doreen, as the vampire was coming for her now.

Vanesse struggled as much as she could to get out of Alani's arms, even as Trina struggled to take control of Vanesse's body. Pain lanced through the Princess's head as the battle-dancer screamed and shouted from the bottom of her friend's psyche to get out . . . to protect Vanesse one more time.

"No," Vanesse whispered, pulled on her magical reservoir to give herself some strength, and then quickly rolled out of Alani's hands. She was tired. She was tried of running and being scared, and she was tired of everyone around her suffering while she whimpered helplessly.

"Princess?!" Alani shouted in surprise, moving to grab the elf and attempt to flee again. She made the classical blunder of taking her eyes off of the enemy for just a moment, and she paid for it when the vampire pounced and rammed her head into a rock with a grotesque thump.

Natasha stood up and watched bemusedly as her quarry crawled towards the blonde werehyena who was still bleeding from the gaping wound in the front of her body. The elf reached forward to touch the dying lycanthrope, but the vampire grabbed her by the ankle and lifted her off the ground as if she were no heavier than a kitten.

"Bad elf," the vampire cooed, feeling more confident. The elf was hers to play with. The two alpha weres were off beating each other into oblivion, so she should have a moment alone before the sky lizards came . . . before the living shadow noticed her. "I killed you. I drank of your life, then made sure you had none. You don't belong here," she hissed.

Vanesse realized that she was not truly the target of this monster's attention. The vampire wanted Trina. Somehow, it knew that Trina was still alive. Sort of. Vanesse tiredness was suddenly and inexplicably replaced. By anger.

"Leave her alone!" she shouted. She was not sure why, but she was more concerned about Trina than her own safety. And the nausea in the pit of her stomach indicated that the battle-dancer was not happy about that.

"I cannot," the vampire replied. "She broke the way of things. Rivers of time and karma have changed their courses. There are too many possibilities now. It makes it hurt to see."

"What are you talking about?"

"She should not be. She cannot be kept in the light world by the power of an utterance, but she has not gone. She had stolen the secrets of my kind. I must steal them back."

Vanesse swung wildly, but she would not have wounded this creature even if she had managed to hit. She was not a fighter. She was just a spoiled little princess who got people killed.

A memory flashed before her eyes, then another, and another. Memories of her training, studying, thinking --

'I'm not a "nothing",' she thought, accepting the thoughts that Trina was pushing forward. 'I'm a necromancer. And this bitch is dead.'

Natasha grabbed Vanesse by the front of her sweatshirt and spun her around so that they were now face to face. "I wonder if it is your blood that I will taste, or hers? Regardless, you will not be coming . . . AURGH!"

The vampire screamed in pain when Princess Vanesse Bellethial uttered a few simply words and proceeded to power-dump directly into the vampire's face. It was a horribly dangerous maneuver, but Vanesse was not going to go down without a fight. She had never cast this spell, but she knew that it was a holdover from the days when necromancers and the undead did not have as cordial of relationships as they did in this day in age. Pure necromancer energy . . . the energy of life and death . . . could be fatal to a creature caught between the world of light and the ever dark. Creatures just like this one.

But Natasha was not young, and she was powerful. She hurled the Princess away, then staggered forward again. She had not been hurt like that in as long as she could remember. She hated it. She hated the one who caused it.

"I will drain your blood and your tears and your screams until there is nothing left but your husk," she snarled, standing over Vanesse's bruised body, which was turning over with great pain on the cold, churned earth.

Vanesse wondered if this was how Trina felt before she had died. Hurt, frightened, hopeless . . . 'No,' she thought. 'Trina was stronger that this.' Even as she thought it, the battle-dancer was hurling herself against Vanesse's mental defenses, trying to get out. 'Trying to get out.' The thought blasted into Vanesse's vision like a comment. She had an idea. Could it work? Trina was always the strong one. It was time to use her strength.

Natasha expected begging or pleading, and she was definitely expecting screams. She was not expecting for an elvish princess to lunge at her and bite her.

Vanesse tasted blood. It was not much, but it would be enough. It had to be. Even as her enemy yanked her away, she began to focus energy. Not her energy, but Trina's.

"Did you like your last taste?" the vampire asked.

"Blood for blood," the Princess snarled. "You took something from me. From her. I'm taking it back." With that, Vanesse unleashed a second power-dump. The vampire, already weakened, looked shocked as a glowing white light emerged from the Princess's eyes and mouth and struck the undead straight in the face.

Natasha finally got her screams. Unfortunately for her, they were her own.

Abraham Holmes was not more than twenty yards away when he heard the most horrific thing that had ever assailed his ears in his entire life. He turned to see that his would-be victim was holding onto Natasha's head, but both their faces were obscured by a brilliant light. "What the OOF!"

In his moment of distraction, the werewolf had gotten kicked hard in the gut by an exhausted werehyena. Farmer wanted him dead, and she wanted to go see if her friends were still alive. But she was so very, very tired from her skirmish.

"It would have been good to be on the same side," Abraham growled, pulling his emergency pistol out of its ankle holster and pointing it at his adversary. "You're a good soldier. Too bad it has to --"

A massive paw came down and squashed Abraham Holmes, crushing him like a grape.

Farmer gaped. She looked up and saw that the darkness had come for the werewolf mercenary, and it came in the form of a dragon. The creature before her was as massive as a greyhound bus in the body, not to mention the wings that seemed to reach all the way to the horizons, and a tail that flowed behind the mighty beast like a stream. And it was so very, very black. Smoke seeped out from beneath the monster's scales, wafting into the great open above. The neck was long and thick, and that head was adorned with a massive pair of jaws and eyes that sucked the light out of the air nearby. It was horrible. It was frightening. It was beautiful. It was a dragon.

Then a figure slid off of the dragon's back, then another and another. One of them, a beautiful red-haired woman, strode towards Farmer.

"Where is the Princess?" the woman asked quickly. She did not sound hostile, but she was certainly all business.

It took every bit of willpower Farmer possessed to pull her eyes away from the dragon. The animal part of her was screaming at her to run like hell, because as strong as she was, the dragon was the apex predator here. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Lillian. I'm from --"

"Crap, you're from Stapleton's crew?" Farmer looked around. "Vanesse?!" she shouted, then took off with a pronounced limp towards where she had just seen the Princess. "She was fighting the damn vampire!"

Lillian rushed to keep up, with two rather imposing black men falling in beside her. Both men were dressed in body armor so advanced it made the werewolves' gear look like toys, and each was carrying enough firepower to down a revolution in a Central American country.

Farmer looked back briefly and saw that the werehyenas had moved out of the field of battle, allowing the two dragons to finish mopping-up the werewolf presence. Then she hurried over to the scene. "Doreen!" she shouted as soon as she saw her young pack-mate, blood gurgling from her mouth and from just about everywhere else.

"Tried," the blond girl said through bubbles of sticky red liquid. "I tried to save her . . . like you would have --" Doreen's gaze was glassing over. A werehyena could survive a lot, but with as much blood as she'd lost, she was a goner.

"The Princess is stable," Lillian said, looking around. "Bangaly, Reaper, keep your eyes peeled. You," she said, pointing at the werehyena matriarch, "You're Farmer, right? Which one . . . oh Lady of Death," she said, noticing the ravaged form cradled in Farmer's arms. She moved over with speed and purpose. "I need you to hold her while I close up the wounds. Damn, this is not the place for surgery. I need --"

"What? What do you need?"

"I need to stitch her up first, and I don't --" Lillian stopped talking, taken aback when Farmer furiously let out a string of laughing barks. Immediately, several werehyena's got up from watching the dragons hunting and headed toward the ruins of the RV.

"Keep her stable," Farmer said. "I'll do the butcher work."

Lillian did not argue. She just poured enough energy into her patient to keep the vital systems operating while the werehyenas went about satisfying their alpha's commands. One of them came over with a reinforced box, after which Farmer started to pull out her medical gear.

"Bit more than your regular first aid kit," Lillian muttered, but kept on healing as the werehyena matriarch did what she could to close up the hole in her young friend's chest.

More and more hyenas began to gather around, giving their power and support to their leader and their youngest. Lillian was surprised to see the young blonde's chest steady and her vitals stabilize much faster than even a lycanthrope's normally would.

"Stay with us little one," Farmer said soothingly. Then she saw Jack crawling over, his face suffering from some deep gashes, but nothing life threatening. He was hauling Alani with him. The islander girl was not moving. "Is she --"

"She's alive, but she got her noggin thumped pretty hard."

"Can you --"

Lillian raised her hand. "I'll do what I can."

Farmer nodded. "Glad you got here when you did."

The redhead smiled. "As the Princess suggested, I already had guessed her identity. Lord Stapleton gave the go ahead to come up and start looking for you as soon as I told him, and her identity was confirmed by the Shepherd while we were on our way. It was smart for the Princess to tell us what route you were taking. Luckily, the Greater Dragons move a little faster than you would expect."

The werehyenas all looked towards the sky. The smaller of the two dragons was swooping across the field, then suddenly stopped and pounced on a werewolf who was attempting to take refuge in a bush. The mighty beast jumped up and down, smashing the hapless werewolf repeatedly against the ground. The way that it was toying with what would normally be a vicious opponent made it almost look like --

"Don't compare him to a kitten," Lillian said with a smirk. "Aodh hates being compared to anything cute, especially if it's cute and fluffy."

"Aodh?"

"That's his name," the redheaded necromancer said. "And THAT," she started to say as a dark shape floated to the ground, "is Shamira. Better known to the magical world as Shadow Wing."

Shadow Wing was massive in a way that did not truly translate from the rules of modern physics. The great black dragon seemed to take up far more space than mortal eyes thought it should, to the point where staring at it too long gave the viewer a sense of claustrophobia. Smoke seeped out from underneath its scales, and darkness radiated from its eyes. It was darker than the night around it, a living, breathing, killing shadow.