No Such Thing As Werewolves (22 page)

Chapter 28- Sunburned

Blair dropped into a low crouch in the deep shadows next to the salt-weathered fence. He rested a hand on one of the rough slats, peering at the ramshackle house and the deserted highway behind it. A wan glow came through what he took for a kitchen window, thick with the kind of filmy grime that built up near the ocean. The rest of the place was dark, and the only sound was the pounding of surf in the distance. Even the wind was barely audible, though he felt its salty caress. They were cloaked in darkness, save for the fat sliver of moon just above the horizon. He stared up at it, fixed on its surface, iridescent like he’d never been before.
 

“Yeah, I feel it too. Makes me itch for some reason,” Liz said, settling in next to him as she peered up at the moon. They were still naked, though the darkness mercifully obscured certain details.
 

The hike had been difficult, and not solely because of the blistering sun. She was beautiful. Long copper hair and…And he needed to focus.
 

“Wish I understood what the hell is going on. Nothing makes sense anymore,” he said, unsure if he meant the attraction or the moon. Perhaps both.
 

“If my brother were here, he’d have some sort of theory, but I haven’t the faintest idea why I can close my eyes and point straight at the moon. I mean, I get that we’re werewolves so it sort of makes sense. I just don’t get
why
. Anyway, I don’t see any cars coming. Do you think we should knock?” Liz asked, rocking back and forth on her heels in the soft sand. It had the appearance of a nervous habit.

“You know more about local customs than I do. If this was California, the owners would either call the police or come out with a shotgun. How will they react to a pair of naked strangers on their doorstep? How do we explain what happened?” he asked, voice pitched low even though there was little risk of being heard over the waves.

“I’ll tell them we camped at the beach and were robbed while swimming,” she replied, evidently having given the matter thought during their mostly silent hike. Liz rose to her feet and started for the front door. “Come on. I doubt they’ll answer with a shotgun, and even if they do, what choice do we have? It’s getting chilly this close to the water, and I don’t like the idea of another night outdoors.”

“All right,” he agreed, loping after her through the thick sand. At least it was better than the rocks. “I’ll let you handle the talking. Just be ready to run.”

They rounded the fence, crossing the cracked cement walkway. It led past an old pickup truck to a shadowed porch. He wished he knew what time it was. Eight? Nine?

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Liz hissed, turning as if to go.

“We have no choice,” he hissed back, threading a way up the driveway and past the truck. “Come. On. I can’t do this alone. I need you to translate.”

She froze for several agonizing heartbeats and then followed Blair up the driveway. He stepped aside just before the porch so she’d be the first to reach the door. She gave him a tentative glance, somehow visible despite the near darkness. Then she seemed to find her courage, and she gave the plywood door three sharp raps. A tense breath later, light flared within. A muffled Spanish voice called out and was answered by a woman. Footsteps approached, two sets.

The floor creaked on the other side of the door. Then a bolt clicked. The door creaked open, revealing a bleary-eyed man topped by a graying rat’s nest that hadn’t seen a brush in years. He flicked a switch next to the door, and the porch light flared to life. Blair blinked away spots as the old man studied Liz’s naked form. He gave a little frown and then called something in Spanish over his shoulder.

A portly woman in a floral dress advanced up the hall, calling something back to the man Blair assumed to be her husband. She stared suspiciously at Liz, gaze darting to the man as if to confirm he wasn’t enjoying the sight. The man opened the door a bit wider and turned his attention to Blair, face hardening as he did so. Not surprising. Finding a lone naked woman on your doorstep is more curious than disturbing. Add a man into the mix, and that whole impression changes.

 
There was a rapid exchange in Spanish between the old man and Liz, and then he stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. Whatever she’d said had worked. The woman’s expression went from hostile to sympathetic. Liz bobbed her head gratefully as she ducked inside. He moved to follow, but he found the man’s arm blocking his path. The old man’s face was harder than granite, and he raised a finger first to his eye and then to Blair.
I’m watching you.
Great.

To make matters worse, the itching between Blair’s shoulder blades had gotten worse. He didn’t need to turn around to know that was the part of his body being caressed by the moonlight. Well, why not? If he was a werewolf, then it made sense. The scientist in him demanded answers, though. He wanted not just to know how a werewolf could exist, but also how or why the moon would matter.
 

The old man finally moved his arm and waited patiently as Blair ducked under the door. The floorboards creaked as he made his way up the hallway and into a tiny kitchen. Liz was already seated at a table just large enough for two, with a frayed gray blanket wrapped around her shoulders. That hadn’t taken long. An old thirteen-inch television droned quietly on the counter behind them, featuring an attractive Latina reporter in front of some store.

The husband thumped down the hall, passing Blair and heading into the house’s one, small bedroom. He emerged a moment later with a thin green robe that Blair gratefully accepted. It only hung to his thighs, and it itched, but at least he wasn’t naked any more. The old woman scurried across the linoleum, grabbing him by the arm and hustling him to the chair across from Liz.

“Gracias,” he said, exhausting his supply of Spanish.
 

“De nada,” the matronly woman replied with a smile, turning to rattle off another flurry at Liz.

“She says we can stay the night. Tomorrow she’ll bring us to the police station so we can tell them we were robbed,” Liz replied. Blair heard her heart speed at the word “police,” and he couldn’t help but shiver when he realized what he was doing—hearing heartbeats.
 

“Mira. Mira,” The old woman said, face going pale as she gestured at the television. Blair didn’t need to understand Spanish to get the gist of what the reporter was saying. She was gesturing at a storefront. The metal bars outside the door had been bent and the door itself ripped off its hinges. Something massive had broken its way inside the shop.

“Oh my God, Blair. You don’t think?” Liz whispered, eyes finding his.
 

“Maybe. Ask them where that is,” he replied grimly, still watching as the reporter solemnly relayed a story he feared he would understand all too well.
 

Liz obligingly spoke to the woman in Spanish, but it was the man who answered. His voice was hostile, and he gestured accusingly at the pair of them. His wife reacted, blinking rapidly as though seeing them for the first time.

“Blair,” Liz began, heart racing as she prepared to bolt. She pulled the blanket tighter as if that might offer some protection. “They want to know why we’re not sunburned if we spent all day walking. He says we’re lying, and I don’t think I can convince them otherwise.”

Now that she’d called attention to it, Blair realized he wasn’t burned. Neither was Liz, and her skin was fair enough that there was no way to explain it. Their mysterious new ailment was the only answer. Werewolves healed their own wounds; perhaps they could heal sunburns too.

The man darted across the kitchen, reaching into the nook next to the ancient white refrigerator. He emerged with a shotgun, which was promptly leveled at Blair’s chest. Blair tensed but was careful to make no threatening gesture.
 

Slay him, Ka-Dun. He is less than nothing. His weapon cannot harm you.

The voice shocked Blair, and he jerked erect without thinking. It was a mistake. The old man stroked the trigger, and the gun roared. Acrid smoke burned his eyes as a cloud of pellets took him in the chest. The force of the blow hurled him backward, knocking the table into Liz and sending him sprawling. He couldn’t draw in a breath, but he managed to roll onto his stomach. He was still struggling to his feet when he heard the growl.

Liz had been knocked from her chair, but she flipped to her feet so rapidly that only his new senses allowed him to see more than a blur. The blanket was pooled at her feet, and her entire body began to tremble. Her eyes were malevolent pools of amber, bestial and enraged. She tilted her head backward, canines elongating even as a deep howl burst from her like the vengeance of the damned.
 

It shook the room, sending the old man staggering back into the refrigerator. His hands shook as he snapped the shotgun open and tapped out the shells. He fumbled at a drawer that probably contained more rounds as his wife ran shrieking from the room.

Liz continued her transformation, auburn fur bursting from every part of her body. It raced to cover her nakedness as her body swelled. She grew taller, more muscular. Claws burst from each finger. Bones broke as a wolf’s muzzle replaced her face. It all happened so fast, no more than a few heartbeats. Then a nine-foot monstrosity stood where the beautiful woman had been.

The beast lunged, wicked claws punching through the man’s abdomen with a sickening crunch of bone. The shotgun clattered to the floor as one of her furry arms hefted him effortlessly. Hot blood rained to the linoleum, and the man’s heart raced like a rabbit. Blair staggered to his feet, wanting to stop her but knowing it was impossible.

Not so, Ka-Dun. You are a shaper. Impose your will and she will obey.
 

“How?” Blair cried, staring in horror.

It was too late. The beast sank her fangs into the old man’s neck, nearly severing his spine as she tore violently at his flesh. Blood painted the room, fountaining across her auburn fur until she resembled an avenging demon Hollywood would envy. The old woman bolted down the hall, barreling out the front door with a shriek that wouldn’t end. The beast took a step as if to follow.

Blair wasn’t sure what he did, but something surged within him. It was the same fire he’d felt when he first changed, a crackling energy that threatened to burst from him. He grabbed at it, using it to fuel
something
.
 

“Stop,” he roared. Power suffused his words, lending a palpable authority. The beast paused and then turned to face him. Blood dripped down a chest recognizably human, even under all that fur. Every muscle strained to reach him, claws flexed in anticipation. She wanted to destroy him. He could feel the malevolence, feel her struggling against his will. How long before she broke free and killed him?

Chapter 29- Clash of Wills

Liz was terrified. She stared down at Blair through alien eyes, powerless to control the actions of the monstrous body she now inhabited. She was not alone. A palpable presence lurked within her, exposed now that she’d somehow unleashed it. The thing was all rage, wrapped in a fury so potent that it frightened her even more than her helplessness. Below her Blair glared upwards, blood-speckled shoulders squared and face locked in grim determination. Something lurked in the recesses of those deep brown eyes, a power and authority he’d lacked before.

“Stop…fighting me,” Blair said, taking a step closer. His face hardened, determination and anger etched there. “I know the beast wants you to kill. I know that better than anyone possibly could. But I also know you can fight it. You can control it. Fight the beast, Liz. Take back your power.”
 

He is a shaper, Ka-Ken. His witchery is all that keeps us from rending his frail little body. Join your will to mine, and we will slay this impudent male.

No!
she railed, screaming within the confines of her head. Frustration and anger formed an alloy of resolve. She wasn’t helpless.
I will not help you murder him. Give me my body back.

We are one, Ka-Ken. If this form displeases you, then change it. But first let us deal with the shaper. Let us smash his witchery and feast on his flesh.

I said no. He’s the only one who knows what’s happened to me,
she shot back, gird in a grim armor of determination.
Why don’t you flee back into whatever corner of my mind you were hiding in? Go. Away.

This one will stop us from killing the unblooded who fled. She will alert warriors that we lack the energy to fight. She must die.

No
.
I won’t let you kill her.
Now give me back my body
, she roared, voice echoing in her mind. She had to regain control before anyone else died. Her will strained against the beast’s, wrestling for dominance. The beast was strong, implacable. Yet so was she. She marshaled all the fury, all the humiliation, all the pain and confusion.
No more.

Your will is strong, Ka-Ken. I relinquish control, but be wary. His kind are treacherous. They lack honor.

Just like that, the struggle ended. The voice, whatever it was, receded into the shadowed recesses of her mind. She became aware of her body, suddenly in control of the hulking form. It was unfamiliar but dizzyingly powerful. She possessed a strength she’d never imagined. Her senses were alive. She could taste the blood on the walls, smell the family of mice under the floor boards. Blair’s heartbeat thundered around her. Yet none of that power would enable her to move so much as a muscle. Whatever Blair was doing had stopped everything but her breathing and heartbeat.