The Prodigal Descendant (AlphaxOmega) | ✔

25. Looming threats and Obscure dangers

Chapter twenty-five: 

Cyra quickly shifted to her wolf form as soon as she landed on the ground and leapt towards where Ludovic and his Witch were standing but within the blink of an eye, they were gone. She turned around to look at her Pack Wolves fighting but within seconds, even they disappeared. 

Spread out! Search the Pack for those bastards! She mindlinked her Pack and dashed deeper into the woods as the rest of them followed orders with a few trailing behind her. 

After almost two hours and two rounds around the entire perimeter, she came to a stop. Her Wolf stood up straighter as she took in a deep breath of air. The smell around them was clearing out soon and the pungent odour was faint. 

You all can head back to the Packhouse now. They seem to have gone, she told the Wolves. 

Djomahn stood in deep thought as he waited for all the Wolves to be gone out of their earshot. "We need to talk."

Cyra shifted into her human form and donned Djo's shirt that he offered her. "Were you there when they all up and about vanished out of nowhere?"

"Yes. It was a very powerful magic. The shift in energy in the atmosphere was very overwhelming. It still is," he suppressed a shudder that raked through his body. Being a person of magic as well, he was sensitive to these kind of things. 

"It was that Witch."

"What Witch?" He confusedly asked. 

"Come with me," she said and started walking off towards where she had first seen Ludovic. "Do you feel the magic here too?" She wanted to make sure if it had really happened or if it was just all in her head. 

"Yes." He looked at her skeptically. "What happened?"

"That night two years ago, that asshole, he was here again tonight. His name, he said it was Ludovic Adam something, I don't remember. But he was here again with some Witch. He coaxed me into shifting saying he wanted to talk and when I did, we were in some other place. The Witch got me paralysed and he spoke of things he could get because of me. It doesn't make any sense," she raked her hand through her hair in frustration. 

"A Vampire and a Witch want something from you? What?" He asked, his tone unnervingly cynical. 

"I didn't ask. I was too busy  being paralysed," she snapped at him. 

Djomahn glared at her. "What could they possibly want from you?" He thought to himself loudly. 

"Whatever it is, from what I gathered tonight, I'm of no use to them dead. Otherwise I wouldn't be standing in front of you right now." A shiver raked through her body as she thought about all the things that could've possibly gone wrong. She shook her head and pulled herself together. Now was not the time to dwell on her own selfish things. "We need to head back to the Packhouse now."

She walked inside the Packhouse and everybody went quiet. "How many casualties?" She asked nobody in particular. The shirt she had adorned, Djo's semi-nude state, the blood smeared all over her the least of her concerns. 

"Twenty-two are hurt. Five are dead," John replied. 

Her eyes widened in shock. "Five?!" She had to take a deep breath to process that as the pain of their loss set in. "What about the people that are hurt?"

"The doctors are still looking at them." 

"Was any of those twenty-two people bit by them?" She had read about how lethal their saliva could be to the Werewolves and if they were infected, there was no hope.