The Alpha's Mutt
Master Belial

“Report?” He sneered through pale lips, looking over the men who stood before him, covered in the thick scent of blood.

Normally, this aroma was something that he would have relished in, but this was not the kind of blood that he craved. He would drink from almost any creature that was presented to him. He would relish in the warm sustenance no matter who it was being offered. There was only one exception to this rule. One kind of blood that made his stomach curdle at the thought of it…

Wolf blood.

Unless of course that blood was being shed on the battlefield, in that case, every single drop was worth the stench. He had hated the wolves for as long as he could remember and given his highly advanced age, this had been a very long time coming. Ever since a pack of wolves had slaughtered his beloved. Ever since they had ripped the only being that ever caused his cold, dead heart to beat, straight from his arms. He blamed every single wolf for her loss. He did not care if they were directly responsible or not. It was their species that was the problem, not just a few bad wolves that were long gone.

If the wolves had not been what they were. If they had not hunted them so ruthlessly. Then she would still be here. She would be alive today. But they could not control themselves. Could not help their lust for death. Savages. Nothing but filthy wild animals and they needed to be put down.

He had spent centuries planning out his revenge. He had gone from nothing and no one after the death of his beloved. To amassing great wealth and building up a clan of loyal followers who believed in the cause as much as himself. They had bid their time. They had collected power. They had perfected a plan and now, after all this time, it was finally coming to fruition. They were systematically wiping out wolf packs all over the country before he intended to move on to the rest of the world.

He had spent years, tracking and kidnapping witches. One here; another there; two if he was lucky. Never enough to draw any major attention. Sometimes taking one witch and then not risking grabbing another for a decade. He fed them his blood, slowly turning them part vampire over time, keeping them alive until he was ready to use them for his scheme.

He then forced his witchpires to concoct a sickness. Something that was strong enough to decimate the immune system of the normally unsusceptible wolf. They had released this virus by capturing a local wolf then infecting him before erasing his memory and sending him home to his pack. There the virus would spread and multiply until the wolves were as frail and fragile as humans. Easy prey.

Then he could finally rid the world of their existence. Wipe the parasite clean off the earth. Only then could he rest and join his beloved in the afterlife. This was all that he had truly wanted since she had been taken from him. Yet he could not allow himself this peace until he had exacted his revenge. Until he made those responsible pay for their misdeeds.

“The Bristlecone Pack has been all but extinguished, Master Belial.” One of the vamps before him finally spoke.

“Why phrase it as such?” He queried, cocking a thin eyebrow at those who stood before him.

His empty, white eyes staring them down giving not a hint to his emotions. His face stoic, expression-less. His power was in his words. In his energy. In the strength that they were all too aware that he could wield. His face was menacing enough without making the slightest effort. He had been alive much, much longer than any of the vampires in this room. He had seen things. He had done things that they could only imagine.

“There were other wolves there.” One of the older vamps of the group, Tristezza, admitted finally stepping forward. “They had stayed outside in a camp and had managed to avoid the illness. We had not prepared for them. A few of the pack members escaped while we fought the healthy wolves.”

“Interesting…” Belial mused, feeling very unamused on the inside. “I wonder how long they had been at the pack to have avoided exposure to the virus, as well, as gone undetected by our scouts.” He hissed, struggling to control his anger.

None of this should have happened that way. There had been a few obvious failures here and this infuriated him to no end. They could not afford mistakes, not even tiny ones. They were attempting to wipe an entire species off the planet. This was no easy task and it had to be executed perfectly if they meant to succeed.

This sickness was supposed to be super virulent. So virulent that even the slightest of exposures should be taking the victims down with a force. This is what he had demanded of his witchpires when they had created this infection. His instructions had been made abundantly clear to them. He suddenly became very suspicious of them. Where did their loyalties truly lie?

If the witchpires had failed him in this way. What else might they had put into the concoction? Was there another way out? Another escape method that the wolves could exploit if they were to discover its existence? Had they really betrayed him so heinously?

He was aware that, in the beginning, he had not behaved very kindly to them. He ripped them away from their homes in the dead of night, taking them from everything that they had ever known. Then he forced them to drink his blood until they began to crave it on their own. Their body’s instincts taking over despite the wishes of their heart and mind.

However, once they had turned, he had given them a decent life. They may not have been allowed to leave the clan, and because of their abilities, he kept them under strict surveillance. But they were taken care of. All of their needs met. He believed them to have become loyal after all this time together. Many of their friends and family were not even alive any longer, having faded away with the ravages of time. Yet, they lived on because HE had allowed it to be so. Surely, that fact alone, should have bought him a wealth of obedience.

“Leave.” He announced to the vampires still hanging on his words in the room.

Their eyes expressed their shock at the sudden dismissal. They had more that they intended to report, such as the number of deaths on their side. Yet, they knew better than to question him when he made a command of them. They bowed their heads in respect before shuffling out of the room.

What they did not know though. What the wolves at the Bristlecone Pack territory were only just discovering. Was that one of the vampires that had been left behind was not as far gone as they had believed him to be. He was managing to survive, but he had been taken prisoner by the wolves from the Elwood Pack and he threatened to expose their entire operation.

If Belial was angry before he would have been beyond furious if he had discovered this information. Yet, he was unaware and, currently, his focus was elsewhere. His mind still wrapped up in the witchpires, mulling over their potential betrayal. He leapt up from his seat behind his desk and stomped out of the room. He marched down the empty halls of the mansion, his cloak swaying behind him as he went. He had only one destination in mind. One place that he could go to demand the answers that he required.

The Witchpires, to keep them from mixing to much with the general population of the clan, had been given their own wing of the grand estate. This provided them with more than enough bedrooms and bathrooms along with a living space, a library, and a kitchen. This had seemed more than fair to him as he offered to make their lives easy in exchange for their services. Perhaps he had been too kind. Too trusting. Allowed them to become too comfortable.

“WITCHES!!!!!” His voice boomed, loudly, upon entering their wing.

Without hesitation, fifteen witchpires came scurrying towards him from all different directions, quickly surrounding him.

“Yes, Master Belial.” They all chimed at the exact same moment.

Their magic and his blood running through their veins had linked the witchpires together. They often moved in mass and spoke in sync. Rarely behaving independently of one another. They ate at the same time. They slept at the same time. They woke at the same time. This unity had provided them with unmatched strength. Their casting circle uniquely powerful.

This was why Belial was so certain that there had been something nefarious going on behind the scenes when the illness had been designed. Some loophole that the witches had allowed for. Some way for the wolves to weasel their way out of this. He could not stand for that. It was beyond unacceptable. The wolves deserved no mercy. None.

He knew that he was not able to kill all the witches, even though his anger desired it. He would need them in order to continue spreading the virus. However, that did not mean that he could not punish them. Make them pay for their insolence against him. Technically, he only needed thirteen of them to enact enough power behind his plans. The other two had been spare for just such an occasion as this.

He grasped the youngest of them that was within his reach. The younger they were the less power behind their magic. Age and wisdom adding a certain force behind their intentions. Doing away with a young one to punish the others would not do much damage to the power of the circle. But it would damage their morale, greatly, and hopefully quell any further thoughts of rebellion.

“I have discovered a weakness in your concoction of the virus.” He hissed, yanking the young witch towards his body, pressing her back to his chest, wrapping his hand around her throat as he did so. “Not all the wolves are susceptible with minimal exposure. Minimal distance seems to offer protection.”

He yanked the young, auburn-haired, witch’s head to the side, exposing her neck to him. In a blur of movement, he sunk his fangs deep into her neck, ripping at her flesh, shredding it as he went. She began to scream out in terror and pain, her eyes pleading with any of the onlookers to offer her assistance. But they would not dare. They would not risk moving even an inch in her direction. They simply gazed upon the scene in horror, unable to do anything about what was happening before them.

They could feel the pain spreading between them. It pulsed outwards from their sister witch, Sash, as she suffered. They cringed inwardly, swallowing down their fear, not allowing for Belial to see how badly they were hurting. He knew what he was doing to them. He knew that they were all linked together, the life force of one merging with the life force of all. But they would not let him have the satisfaction of seeing the torment on their faces. This was one of the few ways that they could fight back. One of the few weapons in their arsenal that would work against him.

But, when he reached forward with the razor-edged nails on his fingers that sliced as well as the sharpest of blades, and dug them into her throat, pulling her trachea free from her body with a single tug. The witchpires could not help but jump back in surprise. They had not quite expected that. They had assumed he would punish them by torturing Sash, but they had not thought that he would murder her. He had threatened such before but had never acted on it. They had, falsely, come to believe it to be an empty threat.

To top it off and ensure that she was indeed completely dead, he placed his hands on either side of her face, twisting her skull until it was clean off her body. He let her decapitated form fall limp at his feet, blood pooling from the open wound. He tossed the head towards some of the other witches who stood before him. Despite their efforts to remain calm, their faces now gave away the true terror that they were feeling as they stared into Sash’s wide eyes that were forever frozen in a look of pure torment.

“You better hope that was the only mistake that you made.” He threatened, with a sneer, his bloodstained lips curling to reveal his fangs.

He eyed each of them carefully, letting them know that he was on to them. Their insolence would not be tolerated any longer. Then he turned, his cloak flailing behind him with a snap before storming away.

The witchpires remained frozen in place even after he was gone. They stared down at the body of their fallen sister, tears beginning to slowly fall from their eyes. Sash had just been murdered in cold blood. Brutally cut down before their very eyes for a choice that they had all made and it was not even the one that they had intentionally planned.

They had indeed left a loophole in the virus to allow the wolves a chance to fight back. But it was not the one that Master Belial had accused them of. They knew that they were taking a risk, putting their own lives in danger, but they could not stand the thought of being responsible for the extinction of the entire wolf race. If Belial was this angry about a mistake that they had made that was not even on purpose. What would he do to them if he discovered what they had really done?

Exploiting a slight difference in the DNA, they had made the hybrids immune. A fighting chance for the wolves. Even if it may have been a slim one.