Free Hidden by Mason Sabre

theirs could ever be. He shook his head at him and then turned back to the main Human . “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
    The man sighed. “The baby.” He looked at Jeff with that kind of expression that said he was tired, not tired as in weary, but tired as in this was beneath him and he was already sick of it. But none of that impressed Jeff. The Human could look any way he wanted and he would still not get his hands on Sebastian.
    “I have no idea what you mean. There is no baby or child.”
    “Do you know who I am?”
    “No, and I don’t really care, either.”
    “My name is Marshall. I work for Norton.”
    Oh, Jeff knew that name alright. Norton—god damn fucking Norton. “So you’re an asshole who is with that company that makes the silver bullets.”
    Marshall laughed. “Well done.” He smiled, seemingly amused by him. “And I am here on behalf of Norton to come and claim the baby.”
    “Watch my lips. There is no baby.”
    Marshall nodded to one of the Humans beside him, who then began to advance. Even from where he sat on his bike, Jeff could see that the Human was terrified. He could see the sweat beading on his brow. Jeff could smell the fear almost—it was thick and acrid in the air. Jeff twisted the throttle again and kicked the bike into gear, pushing off with his foot. He headed straight for the Human , head down, hand twisting, engine blazing. He ground his teeth, ready if the Human was that much of an idiot he wouldn’t move, because Jeff wasn’t relenting. The man did move; at the last minute, he threw himself to the ground and rolled out of the way. Jeff felt the warmth of the air as he rode past him and into the darkness. He didn’t look back. He kept the throttle twisted and rode the bike into Barnham Woods. He rode over fallen branches, over nature’s debris. It didn’t matter.
    The land had an incline. He rode up it, pushing all the way for the bike to take him and the infant to safety. He could hear a ruckus behind him.
    The Humans and the Others were coming.
    They would not get this baby.
     
     
    Malcolm answered the phone immediately when it rang. Somehow he knew that it would be Cathy or Jeff. He felt it inside. When Jeff’s hushed voice came on the line, Malcolm’s head was already way ahead of him. He was late going back to them. Late because he hadn't yet found Sebastian somewhere secure to go. He raced out of the house and to his car. Time was of the essence here. He would already be behind with just having to drive to the clinic. He turned the ignition, put his foot down and sped off.
    Almost twenty miles of the most infuriating country lanes, and forty minutes later, he pulled his car up outside the clinic. The lights were on in there, but he couldn’t see anyone. The place was quiet—too quiet. He marched to the door, its hydraulic mechanism giving way under Malcolm’s strength as he forced the doors open. The stench of death and blood rushed out to greet him. Its coppery scent filled his nostrils. He stepped inside. It was silent in there too. No patients, no staff. He walked in, pushing the door to the first examining room open. There was a man on the bed—dead. His throat was torn out. The mark of claws. His unfocused eyes stared up at the ceiling. On the floor next to him was another man, younger. He wore a white jacket and gloves, one of the staff. His throat was the same. Blood pooled on the tiled floor beneath him. Malcolm bent down and dipped his fingertips in. Warm. It was still warm.
    He breathed in deeply and called to his tiger, not to shift, but to be ready. His tiger came like he always did. Willing and waiting, he sat on the sidelines for when he was needed. Malcolm’s eyes shifted and he readied himself to bring his tiger out.
    The next room, just the same. A girl this time, but dead nonetheless. Wounds decorated her arm—she had tried to fight maybe. In the next room, another body, another member of staff. On a break, it would seem.