Chapter 4: The Great Escape II

Unidentified Dungeon

Violet waited patiently, with her eyes closed. She sat with her legs crossed on the cold ground. Her shirt and faded blue jeans covered in dirt and grime. She could smell the distinct smell of oak wood burning in the distance. She imagined someone was having a bonfire close by.

Clara Dawson, the woman in the cell next to her, watched Violet in curiosity. There was something different about her; she could tell--something she can't point her finger on.

Jack, on the other hand, readied himself for her signal, he doesn't know what it was. But when she said, "run as fast as you can", he felt so much certainty in her words that the only choice he had was to believe. Believing was better than losing hope; after all, his pregnant fiancee Melanie he knew was waiting for him. He can't give up now.

Violet listened carefully, two pairs of feet came closer again as she predicted, they had been coming in and out. Dragging one person after the other, to do only to god knows what to them. The two men unlocked the main gate and entered the dungeon taking their time choosing who will be reborn next.

Something in the air changed, Jack and Claire felt it most, and they wondered if they simply imagined it.

Something warm radiated from the platinum blonde, the air turned heavy, and as she promised, the cells slammed open suddenly. The clanking of metal hitting metal filled the suffocating air.

One after the other, it slammed against its frame, swinging. Others ripped off its hinges completely.

And seconds later, werewolves flooded the dungeon hallways. All of them turned to the two hybrid's directions.

The group of werewolves closest to the hybrids surrounded them, pouncing on them. They've unleashed their sharp canines, nails turning to claws, eyes turning a brilliant shade of gold and they tackled them to the ground. Werewolves were working together to snap their necks with all the strength they had left.

At the same time, the rest of the pack moved forward. They were killing anyone that stood in their way to freedom. Nothing irks werewolves more than being caged—they aren't dogs after all.

And as chaos ensued, Violet stepped out of her cage and made her escape. She ran as fast as her legs could take her heading east.

….

10 hours later

Anger and hatred were apparent in the Abomination's obsidian orbs as he stood looking at the open, empty cells of his underground prison.

His werewolves, all 32 of them, had escaped. The werewolves he was plotting to turn as part of his growing hybrid army.

He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands, turning his knuckles white. Blake stood in the corner, leaning against the cold cobblestone as he watched him rip a cell door off its hinges and throw it to the end of the dungeon like it was nothing.

"We'll just have to make some adjustments." the blond said, earning the man's attention.

Aldren swiftly turned toward the blond, "First, find out how this happened." he spat, scanning the place in anger.

Blake nodded, "Consider it done." he said, exiting and leaving the man alone.

Aldren exited the dungeon, and his eyes scanned the blood-soaked grounds outside, scattered around were what's left of his men, 12 of them ripped into pieces.

It didn't take long for them to receive the news thanks to the help of one of their loyal Witch friends', they were able to track one of their escapees in a bar west. And in exchange for the information on what occurred during their break out, Blake and Aldren, together with his sibling Lilith tortured him for entertainment.

The bearded man was drenched in both sweat and blood. His eyes bloodshot, skin burnt as he knelt on the floor—arms behind his back, head tilted up harshly by Blake's hand, gripping his hair.

The young waitress was sprawled on the floor with holes around her slender neck, and the blood around Lilith's mouth was enough clues to determine who was responsible.

Aldren held a glass bourbon in hand, swirling it gently as he took a sip, crouched before the man.

"There was a hybrid with us." The wounded werewolf said panting.

Blake's cerulean eyes widened for a moment, "What do you mean?" he asked, baffled. At the same time, Aldren's eyes narrowed at the man; he better not be joking with him. Or else his head will roll to the floor in a heartbeat.

Hybrids were rare, to begin with, most of them are killed at birth. And those who survive are hunted by both their own race and the Sect called Guardians of Purity. And unfortunately, even if they do evade their hunt, they don't live long enough to survive their own 'Morph'.

"A half-werewolf, half-witch." The man said, cringing in pain. He knew he was bleeding badly, and even though his body was repairing itself, the silver choker around his neck was sucking all his strength.

At his explanation, Aldren gritted his teeth. He doesn't like what he was hearing. Mixed-blood witches were exceptionally rare, for witches were the one that started the 'Cleansing'--killing hybrid babies at birth in the first place and after centuries after centuries they haven't stopped—all in their delusional attempt to save the world.

Pathetic, Aldren thought.

Aldren gripped his glass in frustration, "Are you playing tricks on me mutt?!" he snapped, breaking the glass into pieces in his hand.

The bearded man panicked, and he shook in his place. "No. I swear! I swear, he opened the cages for everyone to escape." He explained, terrified for his life.

"Who is this hybrid?" Aldren asked, emphasizing each word. Alarmed in the notion that a witch hybrid existed. Witches by themselves are dangerous; a hybrid Witch was lethal.

"I do not know his name, I swear. I did not see him!" the man claimed,

"Please let me go." He begged, eyes pleading. Aldren stood, then sent Blake a look, and the blond snapped the man's neck easily.

Werewolves in human form were far weaker than them.

Aldren turned to look at his redheaded sister, who was sitting on the bar counter. Lilith grinned at the two of them, amused at her adoptive brother's temper. He can be so destructive when in a foul mood, scratch that, he is destructive either way one of the reasons he was dubbed as the 'Abomination'. She looked back at her brother, untangling her bare shapely legs.

"Lilith, call Lucy; I want to know everything about this hybrid bastard!" Aldren instructed and his sister jumped off the bar counter and fished her mobile phone from between her supple breasts.

It was half a day later when Aldren, Lilith and Blake stood before Lucy's home—living just 5 miles away from their previous location. The ashen-haired woman looked to be the oldest, but in truth, she was the youngest in the group. She had been made aware of what had occurred, and she knew that Aldren wanted nothing but answers. And so, as soon as she received Lilith's call, she had started her search. She had even called onto her ancestors in the spirit world for help.

The old Witch swung the door open, stepping to the side to allow the three vampires to enter her home. Now, usually, most witches wouldn't dare let such monstrosity near them, worse to work with them. But she wasn't like most witches; she was a witch who had fallen in love with a vampire decades before. And her love was too strong for the Congregation's laws to stop her.

Lucy glared at Aldren, fed up at his antics. For a being who had been around for more than 500 years, he had an emotional maturity of a five-year-old. When he asks for something, he expects it to be handed to him when he asks for it. But he cannot order the runes, nor the tower spirits. No one can rush the mother of all. Nature.

"Patience. Patience," she said to Aldren, who was fed up at waiting. He had waited long enough to rule the world; he was done waiting.

Aldren shot the old woman a look, "I may have eternity. But I cannot wait any longer; I want to rip his heart out!" he spat.

Lucy rolled her eyes, "I got nothing." she said, earning a threatening glare from the man. Most would have cowered under his gaze; he was a dangerous man, after all. And most of all he wasn't a forgiving kind. However, Lucy knew her value, and she refused to bow down to him. She had lived long enough, after all, 90 years old, and had the face of a 50-year-old woman. She didn't mind dying then.

"What do you mean, nothing?" Aldren challenged, staring her down.

"Information. Who this hybrid could be, I never heard of such a thing," she explained, taking a seat opposite them on the sofa.

"Then how do I find him?" Aldren asked, mocking her.

Lucy scoffed, and the corner of her lips curved upwards. "Lucky for you, I got great connections fresh from the dead. I've got an address," she said, pulling a small piece of paper from her sleeve and handing it to him. Aldren reached for it, but she pulled it back before he could touch it. "That is ALL I have." she said, emphasizing 'all.'

Aldren broke into a wicked smile, "That is ALL I need," he said, taking the piece of paper from her hand.