Mike The Werewolf: A Humorous Werewolf Thriller, page 12
Even as I watched in horror, the hair on the back of my hands began to grow courser and thicker.
No!
Two could play at this game. I gritted my teeth and looked inward, envisioning an effigy of myself in my human form. I grabbed hold of that image and embraced it with every ounce of will I could muster.
Amazingly enough, that managed to reverse the change as the fur on my hands and arms receded until they were normal hair follicles again.
“The fuck are you doing?” he cried.
“Stopping you!”
“You do realize these chucklefucks are pointing their boom sticks at you too, right? Or is that some human kink I’m not aware of?”
“I ... that doesn’t matter,” I told him. “Besides, you started it.”
He let out a disgusted sigh. “You know what? Fuck it and fuck you. If you think you’ve got what it takes to stop me then bring it on, pupcake!”
He doubled down on forcing the change, once more turning the warring tide inside my body to his favor. My bones crackled as my clothing grew taut around me.
Once more I tried to match his effort, this time focusing not only on myself but also everything I held dear in life – my parents, Spud, Dallas, even my job.
I managed to stalemate him again but was pretty sure that was it. I was using everything I had but it was night out now, the time when beasts stalked the woods. I could sense my body wanting to side with his will.
He didn’t have a huge advantage, probably on account of it not being a full moon, but it was enough to give the beast the edge in our struggle.
There was only one option left.
I had hoped that given time I could reason with my inner wolf, come to an agreement of sorts. But now I saw there was no chance of that happening. For the very first time my condition truly felt like a curse.
I had no reason to want to die, but my life wasn’t the only one at stake here. If I lost control and killed the elders, who was to say how much damage I’d cause, how many lives would be lost before the rest managed to stop me?
I had no intention of finding out the answer.
“Do it,” I cried, the words slurred thanks to my teeth rapidly becoming fangs. “Shoot me. You have to stop him!”
In another second or two human speech would become impossible. However, the elders still had time to react. Though the change itself didn’t take long, I was vulnerable during it.
Fortunately, the Barley Hills council wasn’t just made up of geezers who’d spent their lives churning butter while others faced danger. Each had earned their place, rising to the top through experience, cunning, and fortitude.
Mind you, I wasn’t sure how much relevant experience they actually had as, far as I was aware anyway, there’d been no werewolves for them to hunt before three months ago.
Not a comforting thought as my body began to bulk up.
Fortunately, the two armed elders wasted no time in lining up their shots.
This was it, the end of my story.
Mom, Dad, wish I could’ve told you goodbye and how much I love you both. Dallas, you’re the best bud a guy could ever hope for. Oh, and sorry about that ten bucks I never paid back...
“Hold,” Isaiah said, raising his hand.
What?!
That single word might as well have been a commandment from God as far as the others were concerned. They didn’t question, didn’t hesitate, they merely shouldered their weapons as told.
Amazingly enough, I felt the change within me pause as my head cocked to the side.
“Aye, that goes for ye as well,” he added, talking at me yet obviously not to me.
“Why should I?” my inner beast replied with a mouth no longer entirely human.
This was a new sensation for me, the transformation stopped halfway between man and wolf beast – something I hadn’t realized I was capable of.
Can’t say it was particularly comfortable. My muscles and bones were in the process of shifting and growing, stuck in positions they were never meant to be stuck in. And with the stew of brain chemicals starting to subside, this halfway form would quickly go from uncomfortable to downright painful in short order.
“Because I acknowledge thee,” Isaiah said. “You are clearly not only a fearsome foe, but an intelligent one at that.”
“No shit,” my inner beast responded, sounding perplexed.
“Alas, intelligence is both blessing and burden,” the elder huntsman continued. “To have it means one’s eyes are open to the truths of this world.” He shrugged. “And one of those truths is being forced to acknowledge one’s own mortality.”
“Mortality?”
“Indeed. Take me for instance. Though my love of God is strong, I have no desire to meet him before my time. I trust the same is true of ye.”
What is he playing at? I wondered.
“Like you have any chance in hell of making that happen.”
“I merely acknowledge the possibility I could die if we continue this course awhile. All I ask is ye acknowledge the same.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because the weapons ye see here are not all this humble village has to offer. We might seem simple folk to ye, but our craftsmanship for silver runs deep.”
“That a threat?”
Isaiah shook his head. “Merely the truth, as I think ye might already understand.”
He was right. My inner werewolf had told me as much back at the serial killer house. Though I hadn’t realized it, he’d apparently been awake this whole time – watching things through my eyes. If that were true, then he already knew the hunters were not to be taken lightly.
“You think I’m afraid of you ball lickers?”
Or maybe not.
“Not at all,” Isaiah replied. “I merely believe we would both prefer to live.”
“Let’s pretend for a moment that’s true. What then? You expect me to sit down for a spot of tea while we sniff each other’s asses?”
Isaiah cracked the ghost of a grin. “Nay. I merely wish for us to converse.”
“You want to talk?” the beast grumbled, as if all of this were nothing more than a test of his patience. “Then talk, but make it quick. My stomach’s rumbling. Trust me, that’s not something you want while you’re standing there looking all edible and shit.”
“Food can be provided.”
I felt my ears suddenly perk up. “Why the fuck didn’t you say that to begin with?”
Sensing the possibility for violence had perhaps dropped a notch, I grabbed control of my mouth. “Can we maybe change back first? Because this halfway form kinda hurts.”
“Sure, why not? Beats listening to you whine like a pussy.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Ten minutes later found me tearing into a smoked ham much as I’d done with that poor pig, all while the elders looked on in silent judgement. At least this time the pork was cooked.
Unfortunately, my inner werewolf had the table manners of a wild animal.
After a while I stopped fighting and let him have at it, focusing instead on making sure we chewed before swallowing.
I can only imagine how I looked, ripping apart hunk after hunk of pork while talking to myself like a madman.
Needless to say, this had potential to complicate future Sunday dinners with my folks.
“I trust the food is to yer liking,” Isaiah said after several minutes, the barest hint of amusement in his voice.
“I prefer it still squealing, but this’ll do,” my wolf grunted, coming up for air long enough to talk.
“S-sorry about this,” I added, trying not to choke.
“Calm yourself awhile, Michael. I know ye to be a good man. That still holds true.”
“Good for nothing you mean,” my inner wolf replied with a combination belch / cackle.
“Yer welcome to your opinion, of course,” Isaiah said before adding, “Speaking of which, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”
“That’s because I don’t fuck humans.”
Son of a...
“Not quite what I meant,” the elder hunter replied, displaying the patience of a saint. “I merely wished to know your name.”
Huh. I held my tongue, curious to see where this was going,
“My name?”
“Indeed. Yer an intelligent being, one gifted with a tongue for speech. Tis common for those who converse to address one another by their names. Ye know mine, yes?”
For a moment I was sure another insult was incoming, but my other half merely said. “It’s Isaiah.”
“Indeed it is.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, shit-licker. When you’re trapped in a dipshit’s skull with nothing to do but watch and listen, you either pay attention or go insane.”
“I’m not,” Isaiah replied. “Nor was my question meant to condescend.”
“Really?” my inner wolf replied dubiously. “Why do I find that hard to...”
“Yer name, beast,” another elder, David I believe, demanded. “We’ll not ask ye again!”
My eyes narrowed, or one of them did anyway. “Say that again, asshole.”
“Peace to ye both,” Isaiah quickly said before turning to the others. “If you’ll excuse us awhile, I’d like to speak with our guest alone.”
The rest of the elders, David included, looked none too happy with that. But Isaiah held each of their gaze in turn. The battle of wills was over before it even began.
Within a minute, they all filed out of the longhouse. They definitely didn’t seem pleased with this development but none appeared ready to challenge Isaiah. Like I said, the guy had a certain force of will to him. In another place, another life, he could have been a politician ... or maybe a cult leader. It was probably for the best that neither had come to pass.
The last of the elders handed his rifle over to Isaiah, which he accepted. He might’ve had some plan for pacifying the beast inside of me, but he was no fool.
“About time,” my inner wolf mumbled, tearing off another hunk of ham. “Those piss stains were starting to ruin my digestion.”
“Hold no ill will against them. They’re all good men.”
“They’ll be dead men if they fuck with me,” he replied just as our eyes settled on the rifle in Isaiah’s hands. “Try not to forget that.”
“Does this frighten ye?” the elder hunter asked, glancing down at the gun.
A laugh escaped from my throat. “Hells no. It’s just nice to see you’re not as stupid as you look.”
Isaiah must’ve found that funny because he chuckled too, before shouldering the weapon. “Now, back to that which we were speaking of. I would hear yer name if ye have one. Calling ye beast is unbecoming.”
“I’m not a beast, I’m a Dominant,” my inner wolf growled. “So the only thing you should probably be calling me is master.” Mind you, the implied threat was immediately undone as he began gnawing on the ham bone. There came a crunch as I’m pretty sure one of my molars cracked.
Ow! “You’ve had enough,” I cried, yanking the bone from my left hand and tossing it away.
“Hey, I was eating that!”
“No, you were breaking my teeth on it. I don’t expect you to understand, but my dental plan is good but not that good. Besides, trust me, you’re already full.”
My stomach gurgled as if in response, making me wish I had a few antacids to follow the ridiculous amount of ham we’d just scarfed down.
Then, realizing I was interrupting whatever had been going on, I handed the ball back over to Isaiah again. “Sorry about that. You were saying?”
As crazy as all this was, the wizened hunter seemed to take it in stride. He nodded before his expression changed, just enough to let me know he was no longer focused on me – or my half anyway. “I’m afraid the only master I acknowledge and serve is our good Lord in Heaven. But if there is something else I may call ye, I would know it.”
“Yeah, it starts with fuck and ends with you,” the beast replied.
Isaiah remained undeterred, though. “Do ye have a name or not?”
“I...” He gritted our teeth. “No, I don’t. Are you happy now?”
“Why not?” Isaiah asked patiently.
“You probably won’t understand this as a dumbass human, but us higher lifeforms identify each other by scent. Pretty simple stuff for those of us who aren’t hairless apes. Now where did that bone go?”
“A higher lifeform ye say? And yet I see a man sitting before me.”
We clambered to our feet before I could stop myself. “Say that again to my face.”
If the huntsman was intimidated he didn’t show it. “I speak only the truth, friend. You stand before me as a man not a beast. Do ye deny this?”
“Fuck yeah I do,” my inner demon growled. “The only reason I look this way is because of the beta bitch I’m unfortunate enough to share this skin with.”
Hey!
“Yes, but said skin is that of a man.”
“I could change that if you want.”
Isaiah met and held our gaze. “Tis merely an observation, nothing more. You wear the face of the man I call Michael, yet you are not he and he is not you.”
“Fuck no we ain’t.”
“Then if ye not be Michael, who...?”
“I already told you! I don’t have a...”
“It’s Winston,” I blurted out.
If my left eye had been capable of shooting from its socket to glare at the rest of me I’m certain it would have.
“The fuck did you say, pupcake?”
My reply had just sort of popped out. Regardless, it seemed I was back in this conversation whether or not I wanted to be.
THE NAME GAME
“What the hell did you call me?”
“Um ... Winston?” I replied sheepishly.
“What the fuck is a Winston?” my other half snarled, “and you’d better hope I like the answer better than I like you.”
“Listen. Isaiah has a point,” I said. “In fact, I was thinking the exact same thing on the way over here. I can’t just keep referring to you as my inner wolf.”
“Your inner wolf?”
“You know what I mean,” I replied, realizing it was entirely possible he didn’t.
“Yeah. You think of me as some sort of fucking pet. Well, guess what, butternuts, I can do a whole lot worse than shit on your carpet.”
This was veering into dangerous territory. I needed to try and right this ship before he did something stupid.
“My point is you need a name others can refer to you by. It’s just the way things work in human society.”
“Like I give a flying fuck about human society.”
I felt my temper start to fray. “Yeah, well, some of us do. And since you haven’t offered up any suggestions, I’m giving you a name – Winston. There. It’s settled.”
“The hell it is,” my inner ... Winston replied. “I don’t like it. Sounds stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. It was my great grandfather’s...”
“If you’re about to say the name of his dog, then I’m about to see how many layers of skin I need to peel before you shut up for good.”
“Not his dog,” I quickly replied. “It was his name.”
“Don’t care. The answer is no.”
“Not to mention, also my favorite Ghostbuster.”
“I have no idea what the fuck that even means, but now it’s definitely no. Suckle my teat if you don’t like it, but under no circumstances are you to ever...”
“Michael’s right,” Isaiah interrupted. “Tis a good name, proper and sound. More importantly tis a strong name.”
My head immediately cocked to the left. “How strong?”
“Tis a name that implies stature,” the hunter continued, his tone suddenly mollifying. “It brings to mind respect, dominance even.”
He can’t possibly think this brute is dumb enough to...
“Is that so?” Winston replied.
On the other hand...
“Of course,” Isaiah said. “It be a name any of my hunters would be glad to claim for themselves. However, if ye still think it doesn’t suit ye...”
“Hold on! I didn’t say that.”
No way! He’d just fallen for reverse psychology that not even a child would buy. Winston, however, was apparently not smarter than a fifth grader.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he remarked, “I’m still not convinced, especially since nutless here came up with it. But maybe I’ll give it a try ... for now. I’d better hear some goddamned respect, though.”
I let out a mental sigh, unable to believe he’d been so easily baited, but that wasn’t the only realization to dawn upon me.
Winston had been able to pick up on my conscious thoughts while we were in our other form, but there’d been no indication he’d heard any of my commentary just now. Otherwise he would’ve surely lost his temper.
Did that mean I was safe inside my own head, or my portion of it anyway, while we were human?
Talk about no small relief. The last thing I needed was an emotionally unstable werewolf cherry picking every stray thought running through my mind.
Alas, that was all the time I was allowed for introspection.
“Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, mighty Winston,” Isaiah said, nodding his head in approval. “Now with that bit of business out of the way, perhaps ye can enlighten my humble self as to the missing parts of Michael’s story, and how a dominant soul such as yours managed to endure such tribulations.”
♦ ♦ ♦
It was amazing to see the change in attitude once Isaiah called the other elders back in. My experience with the leaders of Barley Hills was their word was considered law. Those who didn’t show proper respect were quickly put in their place.
However, following a brief word in private by their leader, they’d gone from browbeating us to complimenting Winston, even mollifying him as they encouraged him to tell his side of our tale.
It was obviously meant to feed my inner wolf’s not inconsiderable ego. Regardless, it was seriously weird to see coming from a bunch of werewolf hunters. Winston may have been fooled, but I wasn’t quite so naïve. Isaiah was playing chess while my werewolf half was still figuring out the rules to Old Maid.
