Michael Belmont and the Tomb of Anubis (The Adventures of Michael Belmont) (22 page)

Suddenly, something sprang from the darkness of the trees and bounded for their cage.
 
They both stumbled back away from the bars, seeing that it was one of the werewolves.
 
This one was much smaller than the rest, and instead of attacking the bars and trying to get at them like they'd expected, it laid down right in front of the cage.
 
Holding its head up and watching the commotion before them, its ears were raised as it listened for any signs of danger.

"Is that…is that Raymond," Liam stuttered.

Michael didn't know what to think.
 
This had to be Raymond.
 
He was glad to see that the boy was all right, but did this mean he had been unable to free them, unable to do anything that would help Abigail?
 
Michael grabbed the bars and gritted his teeth in frustration, his eyes shooting back to the group of monsters dancing around his sister.

Abruptly, the drumbeat changed, and all the werewolves came to a stop.
 
Then they began slowly closing in on the circle around Abigail.
 
Michael knew what was about to happen.
 
He could no longer see his sister, but he could still hear her screaming.

He grew more frantic than ever, shaking at the bars of the cage, yelling for Abigail, and screaming for the creatures to leave her alone.
 
But they just ignored him.
 
Raymond whimpered and howled along with him, but suddenly, he stopped.
 
Cocking his head and holding his ears up, he seemed to be listening to something beyond the outskirts of the forest.

Michael turned his head just in time to see a bright beam of light emerge from the trees.
 
Something was speeding toward them.
 
He couldn't believe his eyes when a large motorcycle shot out of the forest like a growling bolt of lightning.
 
It screeched to a halt about two dozen feet in front of them, and a man jumped off.
 
He wore a long trench coat, a leather helmet, and aviator goggles, which had bright little lights on them.

The man quickly unsecured a strap on the back of the bike, and punched a button on the top of a strange looking contraption; it immediately shot into the air with a loud "PHWUMP".

The werewolves, realizing that their village had been infiltrated, began charging the man as he brushed back the sides of his trench-coat and pulled out two tommy guns.
 
He opened fire, and the night was filled with carnage, flying fur, and the deafening sound of gunfire.
 
Bullets exploded from the machine guns, creating the illusion of strobe lights, and with each small burst of flame another monster thudded to the ground.
 
It didn't take long for the werewolves to figure out that their strategy wasn't working.
 
Some began to veer off to the sides in an attempt to surround their attacker.

A strange whirring sound could be heard coming from somewhere in the sky, and Michael lifted his eyes in an attempt to see what it was.
 
It took him a moment, but he noticed that the contraption, which had shot into the air from the motorcycle, was now hovering about fifteen feet above the man with the guns.
 
It looked like a small helicopter, about the size of a football, swooping through the sky from here to there as it sniped werewolves.
 
Every few seconds it shot out a projectile, and Michael saw that a moment after one of the beasts was shot, it exploded as if a stick of dynamite had been shoved down it's throat.

The man's guns continued to blaze until they ran out of ammo.
 
Smoke drifted out of the hot, glowing barrels as he dropped them to the ground and pulled a large Scottish claymore from a sheath on the motorcycle.

A werewolf lunged at the man and he lobbed it in half with one swift motion, bringing the sword back up to await his next attacker.

At this point, there were only a few of the creatures left.
 
Michael looked over toward his sister to see that six of the beasts stood watching the fight from the safety of the circle, and knew these must be the elders of the village who had been about to sacrifice his sister.

The man with the sword and the little flying machine disposed of the few remaining wolves nearby, and then he laid the blade against his bike and drew out a long rifle.
 
He dropped to one knee, took aim, and shot one of the elders right through the chest.
 
As it dropped to the ground, the five remaining wolves tore off into the woods, howling in fury.

Michael could see Abigail hanging from the pole.
 
She wasn't moving, but he saw no blood, and hoped that she had only fainted.

The man put back his rifle, and as he was walking over to the cage, noticed Raymond sitting beside it.
 
He reached inside his coat, pulled out a revolver, and took aim.

"NO," both Michael and Liam shouted together.

"He's not one of them," Michael urged him.
 
"He's a friend."

The small werewolf was shaking and whimpering, with his paws covering his eyes.

The man walked attentively over to his bike, never taking the gun off the creature.
 
He opened up a pouch, pulled out a different gun, and shot it at Raymond.

"NO," the boys shouted again.
 
But then they saw that a net had come from the gun and trapped the small werewolf in place without harming him.

The man then approached the cage; he injected a strange looking key into the lock.
 
It beeped several times, then clicked, and he pulled it out and swung open the cage door.

"Abigail," Michael shouted as he and Liam ran past the stranger.
 
They jumped and dodged over the dead werewolves, doing their best to make a beeline for the girl.
 
Upon reaching her, Michael pulled at the ropes that bound her arms to the pole, trying desperately to free her.
 
The man followed them over, and with a large knife he cut the rope above her arms as Michael caught her gently to the ground.

"She's okay, she's okay," Michael said to himself in a whisper.

Liam brushed the hair out of her face and placed his hand against her cheek.

The man bent down as well, taking her arm and feeling for a pulse.
 
"She'll be alright, but we need to get her back to the castle right away."
 
He pulled the goggles off his face.
 
It was Mr. Finnegan.

"WHAT?" Liam yelled.
 
"Finnegan when did you…?
 
I mean, how are you…?"
 
He threw up his hands in astonishment.

"Thank you, Finnegan," Michael breathed in exhaustion, hugging the man tightly.

"Think nothing of it, young sirs, it is my job to watch over you, after all.
 
I seem to have, as you Americans say 'dropped the ball' on that, but let's focus on getting young Abigail here back to the castle.
 
Remember that there are still at least five angry werewolves in the vicinity, though I doubt they'll be giving us any more trouble tonight."

Finnegan picked up the unconscious Abigail, and they made their way back to the motorcycle.
 
He gave each of the boys a revolver, and placed the goggles back down over his eyes.
 
"No need to tell you these are loaded," he warned them. "Wait here."

He drove off on the motorcycle and came back a few minutes later with a sidecar attached.
 
"They are not far from here, still watching us.
 
We need to hurry."

He had Michael sit in the sidecar and placed Abigail on his lap, and then he tied Raymond, who was still entangled in the net, to a rack on the back of the bike.
 
Liam climbed on right behind him.

The little helicopter, which had continued to keep guard for them, was still hovering overhead.
 
"Search, and destroy," Finnegan commanded.
 
It beeped in compliance and flew off dutifully, eager for the hunt.

Finnegan pointed at Raymond.
 
"Don't let that thing bite you," he warned Liam, who nodded his head fervently in agreement.

The motorcycle roared as Finnegan sped them off through the night.

The moon flashed like a strobe light behind the passing trees as Finnegan kept his eyes locked on the path ahead.
 
He seemed to know the area well, and was making good time, speeding them off toward safety.

"Finnegan, that was incredible," Liam shouted as the cold wind whipped through his hair.
 
"I never knew you were capable of such violence."

"You will find, young master, that there are a great many things you do not know," responded the butler in his nasally tone.
 
"Now hold on tightly, this next stretch can be quite bumpy."

He'd barely gotten the words out before the sidecar began to shake so violently that Michael would have sworn all his teeth would be shaken right out of his head.
 
Raymond howled in confusion, clawing and biting at the net that bound him.

"Hold on tight to your sister, Michael, and mind she doesn't bump her head," the butler yelled over the roar of the engine.
 
He took a sharp turn out of the forest onto a much smoother country road.

"You're going the wrong way," Liam insisted.

"It wouldn't do to have them follow us home," Finnegan called back.
 
"Tell me, do they know who you are, or where you came from?"

"No," Liam told him.
 
"We didn't think it would be very smart to tell them."

"There's a good lad."

The night seemed surreal as they sped on under the stars, taking detours that led them farther away from the MacFarlane camp.
 
On several occasions, Michael thought he saw eyes shining out from the trees, but he couldn't be sure that his imagination wasn't fooling with him.

Before long, the boys could recognize that they were headed straight for the castle.
 
They shot past familiar ground at breakneck speeds, and it might have been exciting if Michael wasn't already terrified and deprived of sleep.

The motorcycle blasted through the front gate of the grounds, and Finnegan pulled around to the back of the castle toward the garden.
 
Michael caught sight of something rising out of the grass, and before he knew what was happening, the motorcycle and sidecar were disappearing below the surface of the earth, and the hidden door, which had just risen up for them, was closing back down behind.

They screeched to a stop and Finnegan hopped off.
 
He carefully untied and lifted the bag that held the tiny werewolf, and carried him off to the corner of the room, then opened up a door and disappeared for a moment before coming back.

"Don't worry about him," he said, seeing their concern.
 
"He'll be fine in there until I can attend to him.
 
Poor little creature."

Liam helped Michael get Abigail out of the sidecar, and then when Michael tried to stand up himself, he nearly collapsed beneath his shaking, bruised legs.

Finnegan and Liam gently laid Abigail upon a jacket on the floor as the man looked her over once again, and checked her pulse.
 
"No worse for the wear," he said gently.

"What is this place," Liam asked, looking around in astonishment.
 
"I didn't even know this was here."

"This is my workshop."
 
Finnegan removed his trench coat and laid his pistol on a nearby bench.
 
"It used to be my secret workshop.
 
Up until now the only other person who knew of it's location was your father."

They looked around to see a collection of strange inventions and contraptions, a few vehicles were parked in the middle of the room, and some very menacing looking weapons were scattered across a long workbench near the wall.

Finnegan walked over to a large television monitor and pushed some buttons.
 
The screen flickered on, and a short cell-phone like tune played through a few times before a man's face appeared.
 
He looked a bit like Finnegan, except his cheeks were a little pudgier and he had a full head of hair.

"Ah, Finnegan, you're looking well," the man said dryly, his eyebrows raised.

"Woolmore, I need you to relay to the other members of the guild that operation 437 will no longer be necessary.
 
There have been certain events tonight that have taken care of the problem.
 
At least for a while."

The man's eyes widened, though he said nothing.

"Please relay to the Sentinels in sector 3 that they now have a few very unhappy lycans in their territory, although they probably already know by now."

At this, Woolmore squeezed his eyes disapprovingly.
 
His fat cheeks growing redder as he noticed Michael and Liam standing in the background.
 
"Now see here, Finnegan—"

"One more thing, old man.
 
I've captured one of the creatures, a young child whom they turned.
 
I'll keep him here under my protection until the situation can be assessed."

Now Woolmore looked like his head might explode, and he was struggling to find words as Finnegan cut him off once more.

"A full report of the nights events will be sent in within the next few hours.
 
And Woolmore, do try to get some rest, you look as though you may be coming down with a fever."

The last thing they saw was Woolmore raising his finger in protest just before Finnegan shut off the monitor.

"Are you in trouble Mr. Finnegan?" Michael asked.

"Do I look worried?" he responded indignantly.
 
"Now come, we need to attend to your sister."
 
The man picked her up and led them to a stairway.
 
They followed him up, and were surprised to find themselves come out from behind a large bookshelf in the wall in Finnegan's living quarters.