“Thank you, Angela. As we reported last night, the owner of the WereHouse, Bernard Henderson, has been indicted by a grand jury for several crimes, including the murder of his wife. The authorities state more indictments could be forthcoming as they learn more about the WereHouse’s secret activities. We are hearing reports that a major announcement concerning werepets will be coming within the next few days, and that announcement will bring a plethora of new charges against the WereHouse. All of the board members have been detained as of this morning, except for Mr. Henderson, who has still not been located. You are urged to call the authorities at once if you see him.” A stock photo of Bernard filled the screen, and Christine turned away.
“Was that Aiden chasing those wergs?” Alex asked.
She smiled. “Maybe.”
“What’s he doing when he catches them?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, but her sheepish grin gave her away. “Let’s just say he’s helping the creatures find their true identity.”
“Riddles, huh?”
She didn’t answer, though she was jumping for joy inside.
44
A NEW VENTURE BEGINS?
BERNARD Henderson limped through the revolving doors of the hotel where he had been hiding out. He used a cane to take some of the weight off his injured leg. He had always been an overconfident sort. Being hunted by most of the free world didn’t lessen his desire to live a life of luxury. His wigs, prostheses, and new facial hair were enough to obscure his identity as far as he was concerned.
The smaller stretched Hummer his driver had procured was as much of a concession as he was willing to make. Not that he enjoyed moving from hotel penthouse to hotel penthouse, but he figured that was merely his newest hardship in life.
His driver and long-time friend opened his door and helped him into the Hummer.
“Where to, sir?”
“Columbus International. I have a private jet waiting for us.”
“Oh, yeah? Where are we going?”
“My old friend, we are headed to Italy. I have a new business venture to look into.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. We’ll be making a quick stop on the island of Sandalio.”
“Sandalio? Where’s that?”
“About a half-hour helicopter ride from Costa Rica.”
“You been there before?”
“Once. A long time ago. Are you ready to make some money?”
The chauffeur nodded. Bernard handed him a passport and said, “This will get us out of the country.”
As the chauffeur started to shut the door with a smile, a man interrupted from the sidewalk. “Excuse me.”
Bernard couldn’t immediately see the man past his driver, but he heard him.
The chauffeur turned toward the man. “What do you want?” And then he added, “Get the hell out of here. We’re busy.” He turned back to Bernard. “Freaking bums. Always in the way when you’re in a hurry.” He started to close the door, but Mr. Henderson stopped it with his foot and leaned around him.
The man on the sidewalk wore a piss-soaked army jacket and baggy, stained cargo pants. He held a can in one hand and a handwritten Please Help sign in the other.
“What do you want?” Bernard asked.
“Can you spare a dollar?”
Bernard smiled. “I can do better than that. Care to go for a plane ride?”
The bum glanced side-to-side before shrugging his shoulders and getting into the limo. As he slid onto the seat, Bernard scooted to the opposite door. “You smell like shit,” he said. The bum nodded and looked at his feet as if ashamed.
Bernard held a handkerchief over his nose. “I think I might have a job for you after we get you cleaned up.”
Still looking to the floor, the bum asked, “Would this job allow me to earn a drink?”
Bernard laughed, grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass, and poured a shot for his newest employee.
The bum slipped his arms from his baggy jacket and tossed the coat into a heap on the floor.
“Make yourself comfy,” Bernard said.
The bum downed the whiskey and held it out, hoping for another. Bernard handed him the bottle.
The limo pulled away from the curb and into traffic.
Neither man said much while they traveled along the city streets. It wasn’t until they reached the freeway that Bernard asked the bum his name.
The bum smiled and whispered, “You don’t recognize me?” He rubbed his bare chin. “Maybe if I still had my beard?”
“Have we met before?”
“Once.”
“Oh?” Bernard chuckled. “I’m terrible with faces. Perhaps I could remember you better if I knew your name.”
The bum grinned. “My name is Steven, and I’ve been looking for you.” He grabbed Bernard’s arm. “You’ve turned me into an abomination. Karma’s a bitch.”
Bernard glanced at Steven’s hand on his arm and then into his murderous eyes as they morphed into black orbs. He had witnessed enough transformations to know what was coming. He yanked his arm from the man’s grasp.
Steven’s bones contorted and cracked and popped. Hair sprouted from his flesh. His clothes ripped at the seams and he tore them away with a growl. Bernard screamed for the driver to stop as he fumbled for the door handle.
He pulled the handle and shoved the door open, not waiting for the limo to slow. He dove toward the pavement racing past, knowing the impact was going to be painful. From behind, the beast’s claws dug into his shoulder, stopping him short. Bernard reached for the street, grabbing nothing but air as he was dragged back into the car.
Terror filled his bones with the realization of what this man had come to do. He rolled to his back, half on the seat and half off, staring up at the enraged werg. He begged for his life, though he doubted the creature could understand him.
The tires squealed as the driver slammed on the brakes, throwing Bernard and Steven against the rear-facing seat and onto the carpeted floorboards. Bernard ended up beneath the blood-thirsty creature. Steven tilted his snout upward with another howl. Thick, frothy slobber dripped from his jowls.
Bernard scrambled to his belly and clawed at the open door frame, pulling himself toward the pavement. Beneath the door, he saw the fleeing feet of his driver. Bernard pulled himself toward the road.
He touched the asphalt with a single finger and slithered forward like a snake. His hand slapped the road. His chest cleared the door. This was his chance. The creature was too busy celebrating his kill to stop hi—
Searing pain shot between his shoulder blades and continued down his spine. His flesh tore open, spilling warm wetness down his sides. “Why?” he screamed, even though he knew the answer.
The beast didn’t answer with words, but with hot breath at the back of his neck followed by intense, ripping pain.
Bernard tried to scream, but didn’t have the strength. The creature dragged him back into the car, leaving his fingernails and bloody streaks along the pavement.
The creature reached past him and pulled the door closed, shutting out any hopes of freedom from Bernard’s heart. He stared into the cold eyes of slaughter, and for the briefest of seconds a part of him—the hopeful part—thought he saw mercy.
“Please,” he begged.
Steven attacked. The terror in Bernard’s mind was only eclipsed by the pain of the ripping flesh at his throat. He strained for a breath, barely getting any air to his lungs. His open wound gurgled with each breath, drowning out the sounds of the beast’s snorts and the honking of impatient drivers from outside. The warm, red wetness poured from the gaping wound in his neck, but he was too weak to even lift his hand to try to stop it.
He watched through glassy eyes. The beast settled back into the seat like he was prepared for a nice summer drive. Blood, Bernard’s blood, dripped from his snout onto the fur of his lap. Bernard no longer felt the pain in his throat—only numbness and dread and cold. He focused past the fog clouding his f
ading thoughts.
The werg peered almost through his soul and then reached for the door handle. Bernard shivered uncontrollably as the blood drained from his throat, pooling on the floorboards around him. The werg opened the door, checked both ways for witnesses, and leaped from the limo.
Bernard watched with blurry eyes as his executioner disappeared into the forest alongside the freeway. Within seconds, concerned voices approached from outside.
The world faded to white.
Somebody said, “Oh, my God.”
45
REUNION
A few months had passed since Steven enacted his revenge on Bernard Henderson. It was the day before Christmas of 2011.
He was as nervous as he had ever been, standing on the front porch of his every hopeful dream. The condo was nice, as far as condos went, and lighted candy canes two-feet high lined the walkway to the porch.
There were two newer model cars in the condo parking lot, while another car and pick-up truck were parked at the curb alongside.
Steven held his hand inches from the doorbell, terrified to ring it.
Swearing off alcohol three months before was the best and hardest thing he had ever done, and this day was the reason he had done it. The money he had saved from panhandling bought him a new sweater, dress pants, shoes, and a haircut. When he told the barber of the occasion, the older man threw in a shave free of charge. He rubbed his chin just thinking of it.
Finally, after building the courage, he pressed the button. Jingle Bells played in place of the typical ding-dong of the doorbell. For some reason he felt winded when he heard footsteps echo along hardwood floors on the other side of the door.
He told himself to calm down, but the excitement was overwhelming. The door handle turned. He held his breath.
A young man in his early twenties answered the door. Steven held out his hand and introduced himself. The young man grinned and held up his arm, revealing he was missing a hand. Steven felt like a shithead and tucked his own hand into his pocket. “I’m sorry,” he said.
The young man chuckled and said, “No worries, man. I’m Billy. What are you sellin’?”
“No, no, no. I’m not selling anything; I’m looking for someone.”
“Oh, yeah? Who would that be?”
Before Steven answered, a woman’s voice called out from inside. “Who is it, Billy?”
“I don’t know. Some guy. What’d you say your name was again?”
“Steven.”
As the woman joined the young man in the doorway to greet the visitor, she froze. Her eyes were wide as saucers. “Oh! My God,” she said. “Dad? Is it really you?”
He saw himself in her eyes. Though he hadn’t seen her in many years, he recognized her as though he had been with her just the day before.
“I missed you, Christine,” he said.
She began to cry. He wanted to hug her, but was afraid she wouldn’t let him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, with pain and heartache filling his words.
“I know, dad. It’s okay.”
“Can I hug you?”
With tears streaking down her cheeks, she nodded.
He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed with every ounce of his love. She squeezed him back, almost breaking his neck.
“Come in,” she said. “I want you to meet my friends.”
Steven followed her inside. Billy closed the door and followed them down the hallway, and into the living room.
“Everyone,” she said between sobs. “This is my father, Steven.” She led him to another man who stood up from his chair. “Dad, this is my friend, Aiden.”
Aiden shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
She continued around the room and introduced him to Willie and Mick.
After a few pleasantries, she asked Steven if he could stay for dinner. He said, “Honey, I don’t ever want to leave you again.”
Her smile lit up her face. It was better than any dreams he had had of this moment.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he answered. “For some reason I can never get enough to eat when a full moon is near.”
“That’s funny,” she said, cocking her head. “Me neither.”
END
DOUGLAS R. BROWN is a fantasy writer living in Pataskala, Ohio. He began writing as a cathartic way of dealing with the day-to-day stresses of life as a firefighter/paramedic in Columbus, Ohio. Now he focuses his writing on fantasy, where he can draw from his lifelong love of the genre. He has been married for fifteen years and has a son and two dogs. The Light of Epertase: Legends Reborn was released by Rhemalda Publishing on August 1, 2011. Book Two is scheduled for August, 2012 and Book Three in August 2013.
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