Crimson Legacy

Chapter 5:

Meanwhile, Palmer and Damien faced their own peril.

The werewolves snarled and circled, their hot breath clouding the cold air. Palmer, despite his outward calm, felt a creeping disorientation. A strange, cloying scent filled his nostrils, making his head spin and his senses swim. He fought to maintain focus, his vision blurring, his usually sharp reflexes sluggish.

Damien, his face pale with fear, watched from the car as one of the werewolves stepped forward, a wickedly curved blade glinting in its hand. "Look out!" he screamed, his voice cracking with panic.

Instinct took over. With a burst of adrenaline, Palmer whirled around, seizing the werewolf by its thick fur. He slammed the creature against the floor, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat. The other werewolves hesitated, momentarily stunned by Palmer's sudden ferocity.

But as Palmer held the struggling werewolf aloft, he noticed a strange sensation. His hand, where it gripped the creature's fur, felt… hot. He glanced down and saw, with a growing sense of dread, that the werewolf's coat was coated in a shimmering liquid.

"Holy water," he breathed, his voice a mix of disbelief and horror. He tried to release the werewolf, but it was too late. The cloying scent, the disorientation, the burning sensation on his skin – it all made sense now.

Before he could react, a searing pain erupted in his chest. He looked down to see the werewolf alpha, a hulking beast with scars crisscrossing its muzzle, standing behind him, a blood-soaked claw protruding from his chest.

"Yes, It is as you've noticed." the leader growled, his voice a triumphant snarl. "We heard these were fatal to you guys. And unfortunately for you," he twisted the claw deeper, "my claws are laced with some too."

Damien shrieked, his voice raw with terror. Palmer, his vision fading, his strength ebbing away, could only stare at the werewolf leader.

"You can rest easy now," the leader sneered, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Hahahahaha!" His laughter echoed through the desolate alleyway, a chilling testament to Palmer's impending demise.

Or, is it?

The werewolves, their snarls fading into uneasy silence, dragged Damien out of the car and threw him to the ground roughly. He crawled beside Palmer's still form, his face a mask of shock and grief. The alpha, sensing an opportunity, stepped forward, his voice a low growl.

"Give it up. The vampire is dead," he declared, his eyes fixed on Damien. "Now, tell us where the orb is. We were told to end you after getting its whereabouts, whether you cooperate or not. But we might make your death a little less painful if you make things easier."

Damien, his mind reeling from the events, barely registered the alpha's words. He stared at Palmer, his guilt and despair overwhelming him. He had led Palmer to this, had dragged him into his reckless schemes, and now, his protector, mentor, and at some point, a brother-like figure, was gone.

The alpha, growing impatient, grabbed Damien by the collar, lifting him roughly.

"But you're definitely not making things easy," he snarled. "Where is the orb?"

Damien, his voice trembling, stammered, "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

The alpha sneered. "Don't play coy with me, boy. We know you stole the Orb of Oblivion from Him. You were dealing with forces you couldn't comprehend, and now the consequences are dawned upon you."

Damien's eyes widened. He had indeed managed to snatch the Orb, a powerful artifact rumored to control the very fabric of reality, during the chaos at the auction. But he hadn't realized its significance, hadn't understood the danger it posed. He had anticipated that after the massacre at the estate, people would start to tremble before them.

The alpha, seeing the realization dawn on Damien's face, grinned triumphantly. "So, you do have it. Tell me where it is, and I'll let you live. I'm not usually this nice." The wolf pack erupted in a cacophony of cruel laughter.

"Ohhh, so that's what's going on."

The werewolves froze, their eyes widening in disbelief. Damien, his heart leaping with a mixture of hope and confusion, looked up.

Palmer stood amidst the circle of werewolves, his silver hair gleaming in the dim light, his scarlet eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers down their spines. He was alive.

"How...?" the alpha stammered, his voice laced with fear.

"Diluted mixtures can't be compared to the original," Palmer said, his voice a low growl. "Even the church seems to be going astray, working with the supernatural. How outdated I have become."

As he spoke, a complex, ancient crest pulsed and glowed within his scarlet irises. The ground beneath them began to tremble, and the sky above turned a menacing shade of crimson. The air grew heavy with the scent of sulfur, and the temperature plummeted, sending a shiver down the werewolves' spines. Their animal instincts screamed at them, a primal fear gripping their hearts. They were trapped, caught in the domain of a power they couldn't comprehend.

One of the werewolves, driven by panic, turned to flee. But before he could take a single step, his head flew from his body, landing with a sickening thud on the cracked earth.

"Fool," Palmer said, calmly wiping a smear of blood from his hand with a handkerchief. He didn't even seem to have moved. "Under these red skies, I am omnipresent. You can't escape these eyes." His gaze, cold and sharp, swept across the remaining werewolves, each one feeling the weight of his words like a physical blow.

They were trapped in Palmer's domain, at the mercy of a power that defied their understanding.