It was time to find out one way or the other.

  TUNNEL OF TERROR

  My buddy Dallas had explained to me what it was like when he changed.

  He said that looking at the full moon was like staring right into the face of God himself. He explained it as a moment of pure rapture, the light growing ever brighter until it consumed everything he could see, hear, and smell. After that, there was nothing but bits and pieces. He’d wake up with some memories, but they were like a vivid fever dream.

  It wasn’t disturbing, though. Instead, he found it strangely satisfying – like being constipated for several days, then finally taking a good dump.

  Again, his words not mine. Dallas is a good guy, but a poet he is not.

  And yes, that is one hundred percent at odds with what Hollywood would have us believe. To them, the process of turning into a werewolf was both painful and traumatizing. If that were the case, though, then I’d have expected the suicide rate around Harris County to have skyrocketed in the last three months. Except it hadn’t.

  Regardless, the change was somewhat different for me. For starters, I was awake and aware as my body shifted forms. Won’t lie. I did it in front of the mirror once or twice and it sure as heck looked painful. Except it wasn’t, not entirely. There was a little discomfort, don’t get me wrong, but it was heavily numbed.

  I’m no scientist but my personal theory was the change was kicked off by my brain releasing a boatload of chemicals: adrenaline, endorphins, stuff like that. Enough to dope me up until my body finished rearranging itself.

  Or maybe it was just magic. It’s not like I could call a doctor and ask. All I knew was it didn’t hurt and at no point did I lose consciousness.

  At least that had been the case. I had no idea what to expect now. My only solace was hoping I was boxed up tight.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  From what I’d observed, regular werewolves required one of three things to initiate the change.

  A full moon was obviously one of them, a small mercy for those who wanted to cause as little chaos as possible.

  The next method involved Dominants such as myself, or so Hobart had claimed. I’d never actually tried it myself, but he was able to, through sheer will alone, force others to transform outside the lunar cycle. Thankfully, it was supposedly an arduous process, something he could only do to a few werewolves at a time.

  Had that been all, my worries wouldn’t be so ... worrisome.

  However, not too long after that first confrontation with Hobart, Myra had apparently made her breakthrough.

  Magic.

  She’d somehow figured out how to whammy up an illusion of a full moon in a way that set off the change for everyone present. Needless to say, the fact she seemed happy to cast this spell at Hobart’s whim had done little to mend the growing rift between us.

  But, once again, it was different for me. Heck, it wasn’t even difficult for me to get it going. I merely focused and willed it to happen. It wasn’t quite as easy as flipping a light switch, but it wasn’t some torturous American Werewolf in London ordeal either.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I’d stalled long enough. I took a deep breath and tried to force my fear away as I focused on the things which seemed to make it easier for me – envisioning the moon, the woods, and that heady feeling of running free.

  Change.

  For a moment nothing happened, making me wonder if I was now beholden to the same rules as the rest. But then I realized I wasn’t nearly as focused as I was pretending to be.

  All right, take two.

  A few more deep breaths to clear my head and ... this time I could feel it happening. First came a rush of brain chemicals, making me feel all tingly inside. It was followed by the crackle of flesh and bone rearranging itself, growing ever louder as my senses increased in acuity.

  My perspective began to change as my body grew in height and weight. Fortunately, my strength in this new form was more than enough to offset the difference.

  It was a pity I couldn’t be this strong all the time. Would make bulk pickups at work a heck of a lot easier.

  My job was the least of my worries, though. If I was going to lose control, it would be right ... about ... now!

  “Achoo!”

  However, rather than black out, I sneezed.

  “Achoo!”

  Then I did it again.

  Crap! Totally forgot about that.

  Before today, there’d been only one downside to me being a werewolf – discovering I was allergic to my own fur.

  I kid you not. It’s like fate had a sense of humor.

  Fortunately, it only seemed to affect my human nose. As my body continued to change, the sneezing mercifully dried up while the myriad scents of the basement became magnified – assaulting my nostrils with far more detail than I was able to discern just moments before.

  It was the space of seconds for me to understand.

  You freaking monsters!

  This basement wasn’t a prison so much as a garbage disposal, used by the Chadworths once they were finished with their victims. The stench rising from the drain confirmed this, acid mixed with a disgusting puree of human remains, too melded together for me to tell how many or for how long this had been going on.

  It made me want to vomit. It was even worse than...

  Wait. I’m still me.

  That realization helped push away thoughts of the horrors in the drainpipe below.

  I was still in control, still conscious.

  To make sure, I spun around, swung my arms, and even jumped – smacking my head against the ceiling. Ouch! Yeah, I probably needed to remember I had a lot less headroom in this form.

  I waited a minute, then two, taking stock of myself. Thankfully, everything felt like it should’ve, my mind, my body, and my...

  Crap! Spoke too soon.

  Even as I rejoiced, the hair on my arms began to slowly recede, as if I’d willed myself back.

  What the heck?

  The second I refocused on it, though, it stopped, reversing until I was fully a werewolf again.

  That’s when I realized I could feel it.

  There was a strange weariness deep inside, hovering at the periphery of my conscious mind, an impulse to change back to my human form, almost as if what I was doing was somehow ... unnatural.

  It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was there all the same, making me realize my body could potentially change back on its own. Heck, it seemed as if it wanted to.

  Panic began to set in as all thoughts turned to the sleeping monster inside my head, wondering if this was him telling me my mind wasn’t welcome in this body, that from this day forward I was destined to be...

  Day!

  Just like that, I remembered what he’d told me earlier about how it was harder for him to hold this form, his form, during the day. It had been some time since I’d started cleaning, but I was fairly sure the sun was still out, albeit probably not for much longer.

  There was also the fact that before today I’d never really changed into my werewolf form during daylight hours for more than a few minutes at a time. I mean, it seemed an unnecessary risk, especially in an apartment just barely big enough for me and my dog. Not to mention, Spud seemed to think I was a giant chew toy in this form.

  He was a great pupper but not the sharpest tool in the shed.

  Outside of that, though, transforming at night had simply felt more ... natural.

  All right, calm down. Crisis averted.

  I was still me, still able to think, and still in control of my actions.

  The question now was what that meant for the voice inside my head. Was he still there waiting to wake up? Or was it too much to hope he was maybe gone for good – a one-time quirk brought about by whatever that monster in the Hudson had done to me.

  All I knew was I currently felt like myself, with no alien presence hovering over my shoulder to...

  What the?!

  I spun as my senses abruptly blared a warning.

  Heck, I wasn’t even sure what I was reacting to. It was simply ... instinct, I suppose. Instinct or not, no one was there. I was still alone.

  Great. Hopefully I wasn’t dealing with ghosts now. Talk about more crap I didn’t need.

  That’s when I noticed it, a slight current across my fur, barely perceptible but there nonetheless.

  Hold on. Is that fresh air?

  I took another sniff, pushing past the acid and the rot until... There! Beneath it was grass, trees, dirt, and more. But from where?

  I forced my mind to go blank and let my senses take the lead. It was .... coming from ... the direction of those shelves of acid? Much as I didn’t want to, I turned that way and took a good long whiff.

  The fumes were strong but thankfully not nearly as bad as I’d have guessed. It was another instant for me to realize most of the containers were either empty or close to it. Either the Chadworths had an aversion to recycling, had recently gone on a crazed killing spree, or ... they were decoys.

  Another scent caught my attention. Beneath the acid, invisible to anyone who didn’t have a werewolf’s olfactory prowess, was another odor, a familiar one.

  WD-40?

  But why would someone need to lubricate a shelf set into the wall?

  Unless...

  As I stepped that way, I noted the smell of lubricant was heavier on one side.

  Oh yeah. This was getting more suspicious by the moment.

  I grabbed the unscented side and gave a quick pull, noting it had no give. Fortunately, I had more oomph at my disposal than most people.

  I put my back into it and there came the squeal of metal, but it wasn’t from the shelving itself. It was more like ... a latch giving way. There came a metallic pop and suddenly the shelf swung open on well-oiled hinges, scattering plastic containers in every direction.

  I spied the now broken lock, telling me there was probably a hidden release I hadn’t noticed. Oh well, patience wasn’t a virtue I had in ample supply right then.

  Someone had chiseled a wide hole in the concrete behind the hidden door. Beyond, a claustrophobic-looking dirt tunnel led off into the darkness. Wooden support beams had been hammered into place every dozen feet or so to keep it from collapsing. A string of low-wattage Christmas lights likewise hung from the ceiling.

  I had no idea how long it continued, save I couldn’t see the end. It either angled at some point or the exit was hidden from view.

  None of that mattered, though. Wherever this led to, my nose confirmed it let out into the open at some point.

  I’d found another way out, one that was almost certainly better than using the front door.

  ESCAPE FROM PSYCHO MANOR

  Despite being considerably larger now, I still maintained much of my former dexterity. That was good, because I had no intention of resuming my human form until I was far away from this hell hole.

  Once the police discovered this nightmare, and I had no doubt they would, I had to make sure it was as difficult as possible for them to connect the dots back to me.

  I’d done my best upstairs and in the garage to destroy any evidence of my passing. As for down here, perhaps it was best to let them think a wild animal had broken in.

  To that end, I grabbed the hose and turned it on full blast, rinsing all the blood from the trapdoor, stairs, and surrounding floor before turning the powerful stream on the clothes I’d worn, not stopping until the water running down the drain was clear again.

  My nose was still able to pick out the blood on the fabric, but it was heavily muted now. I grabbed them anyway because, washed or not, no way was I leaving them behind as evidence. But then my eyes fell upon the bag still on the table.

  Screw it.

  I unzipped the top, meaning to stuff the bundle inside without looking, only to realize it was already full of clothes – both male and female. That wasn’t all, though. Curiosity got the better of me, so I took a closer look. Beneath the clothing were two fat stacks of cash, a pair of flashlights, two burner phones, some water bottles, and a loaded gun.

  I didn’t need to be a CSI detective to recognize a bugout bag when I saw one.

  It was the final piece of the puzzle.

  The Chadworths had obviously been ready for a quick getaway in case the police ever paid them an unexpected visit. That was the reason for the tunnel. It was also why the trapdoor’s latch was on this side. It was to give them as much extra time as possible to traverse the same escape tunnel I was now planning to use.

  I took a closer look at the hidden door. Sure enough, a deadbolt was welded on the back, one that could be slid into place from the other side.

  If I hadn’t been convinced they were seasoned serial killers before, I sure as heck was now.

  Insane as it was, my inner wolf had seemingly done the world a favor. I doubted he would’ve cared, but there were almost certainly people out there who’d been spared the future heartache of loved ones vanishing without a trace.

  Heady stuff, but perhaps best saved for another time.

  For now, I considered the bag’s contents. I was no thief. I’d been raised better than that. But I was smart enough to know I still needed a way to get home. That settled it.

  As for whatever was left over, well, I could figure that out later. Heck, who was to say I wouldn’t need it for rent and groceries? I still had no idea how much time had passed since my adventure in Manhattan, but there was a very real chance I’d return home only to find out I’d been fired.

  Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants?

  Once again, though, that was a problem for future Mike.

  I stuffed the wet clothes in with the rest, zipped it back up, and then slung it over my shoulder – the duffel bag no more than a fanny pack against my much larger wolf form.

  Unfortunately, that was going to make this next part uncomfortable, but first things first. I made it a point to trash the place – scattering everything and scratching up the walls to further drive home the idea an animal was to blame.

  That done, I finally turned my attention toward the exit.

  Unsurprisingly, the tunnel hadn’t been built with werewolves in mind. I just barely fit inside laying on my belly. It was a good thing I had no intention of closing the door behind me because there was no chance of that happening.

  Instead, I used my claws to inch forward, something neither pleasant nor quick.

  After roughly an hour of crawling, getting stuck repeatedly, then crawling some more, I craned my neck to look up. The scent of fresh air was stronger than ever, but now there was an undercurrent of death and decay.

  The way out appeared to be covered by an old wooden door camouflaged with leaves and branches. More importantly, the dim light filtering down from above, coupled with the fact my body was no longer trying to change back, seemed to indicate that dusk had finally descended, a point in my favor.

  My patience at an end, I clawed my way upward until I could finally reach the exit. Then I shoved it open, revealing treetops and the sky above.

  About freaking time!

  Feral instincts whispered to me as I stood up, free at last. I threw back my head ... and just barely caught myself before I started howling like an idiot.

  Needless to say, that wouldn’t help my cause.

  Being a werewolf could be a heady experience, but now I had an inkling where those instincts were coming from.

  Speaking of which...

  I cocked my head and waited as I stood half-concealed by the Chadworth’s escape tunnel. However, those urgings quickly silenced themselves, leaving me alone inside my head and still in full control of my body.

  Thank goodness!

  It wasn’t all wine and roses, sadly. The scents I’d noticed below were now stronger than ever, impossible to ignore. I was now deep in the woods, at least a couple hundred yards from the house those nutjobs had called home, but still the stench of death lingered.

  I sensed rotting bones and marrow mixed in with the soil all around me. It was hard to tell how many, but my nose painted a gruesome picture of unlucky victims killed by monsters wearing human skin – their flesh dissolved in the basement while whatever was left got dumped out here.

  It was almost enough to make me sick as I climbed out, the stench so overwhelming I failed to notice another scent until I’d managed to step free – that of well-oiled metal.

  Sadly, it was at the same moment my foot landed atop the bear trap hidden there, setting it off with a heavy crunch of steel meeting bone.

  Son of a...!

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I couldn’t help but scream. Had I been human, it would’ve likely been laced with no small number of expletives, but in my current form, it came out more like the roar of an angry lion.

  No doubt about it. If the Chadworths had any neighbors nearby, they were almost certainly wondering what on Earth was roaming the woods this night.

  I bit my tongue against the pain of metal teeth digging into my ankle. Had I not been a supernatural monster, I’d surely be sporting a broken leg.

  Call me paranoid, but I had a feeling it was no accident this trap was here.

  First things first, though. I bent down, grabbed hold of the heavy iron jaws, and pried them open. Thank goodness for opposable thumbs.

  Freed, I quickly tested out my injured leg. It hurt like a mother, no question there, but it was able to support my weight. That was good because I’d just about had my fill of crawling. Instead, I grabbed hold of the sprung trap and twisted with all my might.

  When I was finished, the beartrap was bent in a way to ensure it would never be usable again. I reared back, meaning to throw it away, but ... instead clonked myself upside the head with it?

  Oof! What the heck?

  My mouth opened of its own accord and a rumbling growl came out, except I somehow understood its meaning.

  “What the fuck did I tell you about waking me up?”

  And just like that my situation went from bad to worse once again.

  STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

  “Um, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Or that’s what I tried to say. What came out of my mouth instead was a series of chuffs and grunts.

 

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