by Mac Flynn
“Prove it.”
Lenore blinked. “Huh?” He shook her, and she knocked his hands from her. “I’m not a bobble-head doll,” she scolded him.
“Prove to me you’re a werewolf. I need proof,” he insisted.
“Um, I don’t really know how to change,” she told him.
Stan stepped back and cross his arms. “Try.”
Lenore pursed her lips and glanced down at her hand. Nick had changed his, maybe she could do the same. “All right, but don’t laugh if nothing happens,” she warned him. She raised her hand, and focused on her short fingers and small hand. Nothing happened. Her eyes flickered to Nick and she sheepishly grinned. “I don’t really know how to get this thing going. Maybe if you came back later-”
“Keep trying. I’ll wait,” he offered.
Her face fell. “Fine, but don’t push me.” Lenore turned her attention to her hand and glared at the unhelpful limb. She was annoyed by her brother watching and waiting. Nick hadn’t taught her to do anything yet, but noooo. Stan wanted results right now. It made her blood boil, more than it should have. Slowly, without her knowing, her hand transformed. The fingers lengthened and her nails sharpened. Hair sprouted from the skin and her muscles thickened.
Stan’s arms fell to his side and his eyes widened. “My god. . .” he murmured.
Lenore snapped herself from her angered thoughts and noticed her changed hand. “Wow, I did it,” she wondered.
Stan clasped her transformed hand in his own and shuddered. “And he did this to you?” Stan asked her. She didn’t like his tense tone.
“Yeah, but there wasn’t any other choice,” she insisted. Stan stiffened and set his mouth in a firm, straight line. He turned and marched toward the door. “Stan? Stan, don’t do anything homicidal,” she warned him. He opened the door and didn’t bother to shut it as he strode toward his truck that sat with the driver’s side door against the curb. Lenore raced to the entrance and watched him open the door of his truck and pull out his shotgun. He opened the barrels, was satisfied with the contents, and snapped it shut. “Stan!”
Stan turned toward her and she gasped at the anger in his eyes. “I’ll be right back,” he told her.
He slid into the driver’s seat and started the truck. Lenore raced out the door just as he pulled away from the curb. She stumbled into the road and sprinted after him. Stan pressed down on the gas to lose her, but she caught the side of the truck at the rear and pulled herself into the bed. Lenore crawled across the boards and trash to the rear window which she flung open. Stan scowled at her as she crawled into the cab and popped onto the seat.
“Sorry to drop in on you like this, but we need to talk,” she insisted.
“We’ve talked. You told me all I needed to know,” he replied.
“So you’re going to do what? Go kill a werewolf with your shotgun?” she guessed.
“And my silver bullets,” he added.
Lenore’s eyes widened. “What in the world are you doing with silver bullets?”
“Killing a werewolf,” he quipped.
“But what are you doing with them in the first place?” she persisted.
“Killing a werewolf,” he repeated.
“How’d you know there was a werewolf so you could make the bullets and use them on the werewolf?” she rephrased.
“Think about it. The rumors about the large dog, the wolf blood in his basement, and your miraculous healing after the accident,” he pointed out.
“So you put three and three together and got folklore?” she wondered.
“I had a hunch, so I prepared myself,” he countered.
“And now you’re going to go commit premeditated murder on Nick,” she finished.
“Whatever I’m going to do is none of your business,” he argued.
“It will be when I’m on the witness stand giving proof against my brother because you’re being charged with murder,” she shot back. Stan pursed his lips together and pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal. They flew over the road and potholes into the older neighborhoods. “Stan, this is crazy! You can’t just go murdering people because they changed your sister into a werewolf!”
“There’s no law that says I can’t,” he countered.
“I’m saying you can’t, and the command of a little sister is law,” she told him. Stan jerked the wheel to the right and they slid to a stop in front of Nick’s house. He grabbed the gun beside him and stepped out of the vehicle. Lenore jumped out and raced around the front where she met him near the steps to the weed-choked path. She stepped between Stan and the steps and pressed her hands against his chest. “You don’t need to do this. I’m not dying like you thought,” she pointed out.
“No, you’re worse,” he growled. He pushed her to the side and stalked toward the house.
“Stan, come on! You can’t do this!” she persisted. She raced after him, but didn’t catch up to his stride until he reached the door. Stan shoved the door open and they saw Nick coming out of the basement. Stan raised his gun and pointed both barrels at Nick. “No!” Lenore screamed. She grabbed the barrel and shoved it to the ground, but the shot was fired. Nick deftly stepped back into the basement and the spray pattern covered the walls around the basement doorway.
Stan tossed the gun and Lenore toward the living room entrance and stalked toward the basement. Nick stepped out and was in time to duck a hard swing from Stan. The werewolf swung his leg and knocked it into the back of Stan’s knees. Stan collapsed, but swung his fist upward to catch Nick under the jaw. Nick stumbled back and wiped a smidge of blood from his cut lip. The wound healed itself within seconds and his lips pressed together in a sharp frown.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Stan,” Nick told his opponent.
“Then hold still and let me hurt you,” Stan replied. Stan rushed him and tried another swing, but Nick caught the fist in his hand and squeezed Stan’s fingers.
Lenore winced when she heard a painful crack from Stan’s fist. She wasn’t sure who to root for. Her brother was the instigator, but was still her brother, and Nick was the one who’d changed her into a monster, but he did it for love. Nick grabbed Stan’s throat and swung him into the wall. The wind was knocked from her brother’s lungs. Stan coughed and wheezed, but used the wall behind him to stand.
Lenore rushed to his side and grabbed his shoulders. “Stop being an idiot! He’s faster and stronger than you!” she pointed out.
Stan brushed her off and glared at Nick. “You bastard! How could you do that to her? How could you make her into a monster?”
“It was the only way to save her,” Nick insisted.
“Stan, stop this before he uses you as a punching bag,” Lenore scolded him.
“I would rather die,” Stan argued.
“And then where will I be?” she countered. She stepped between him and Nick, and glared at her brother. “Where would I be without my big brother to protect me and scold me, and call me stupid?” she told him.
Stan trembled. “If I was doing a good job of protecting you than this monster wouldn’t have done this to you,” he pointed out.
“I’m fine. Nothing is going to change. I’m not going to turn into a bloodthirsty creature every full moon and hunt the neighborhoods looking for tasty cat cuisine and human hamburger.”
Stan’s face fell and he blinked. “You’re not?”
Lenore rolled her eyes. “No, and if you would’ve asked me that sooner than you wouldn’t look so stupid right now.”
Her brother frowned. “I was just protecting you,” he insisted.
“From who? Nick? If he wanted to kill either of us he would’ve done it in the basement and buried our bones so he could use them as chew toys later,” she pointed out.
“I have only done that once,” Nick protested. Lenore paused, and both she and Stan turned to look at him with frowns. Nick sheepishly smiled and shrugged. “It was a cow’s bone,” he added.
“You’re really not helping here,” Lenore gr
owled. She turned back to Stan and put her hands on her hips. “Now you’re going to listen to me. I may be a werewolf, but I’m not a monster. I’m just-well, I’ve got a lunar handicap,” she told him.
Stan’s eyes flickered from Lenore to Nick and back. “Nothing’s going to change?”
She shrugged. “Well, except when I get all hairy sometimes when I get angry, so you don’t want to see me when I’m angry, got it?” she commanded him.
Stan turned to Nick and frowned. “Did you tell her the truth? Nothing has to change?”
Nick smiled and nodded his head. “I told her the truth. Living as a werewolf does not change the daily life of a former human,” he assured him.
Stan raised an eyebrow. “What about the not-daily life?”
Lenore grasped Stan’s face in her hands and turned him toward her. “Stan, everything’s okay. You don’t need to kill him for my sake. Now let’s get you sat down and take care of those bruises. You’ve got a nice lump on the back of your head, and if you don’t come with me I’ll make you another one.”
The situation was defused and Stan led her lead him away to the living room so she could play doctor on him.
Chapter 16
Nick remained in the hall while Lenore guided Stan into the living room and sat him on the couch to get a look at his bruised head and his cracked, bleeding knuckles. “For somebody who works with tools you certainly have wimpy hands,” she teased him.
He winced when she touched the bruise on his head. “I’m careful with my tools,” he countered.
“I wish you were more careful with yourself. Nick’s a little better at fighting than you,” she scolded him. She pulled back from him and sighed as she looked into his face. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me,” she whispered.
“What would you do if I told you a girl knocked me up?” he argued.
She snorted. “I’d say it’s about time you got a girlfriend.” She was glad when Stan smiled. “That’s the face I want to see. That whole bloodthirstiness and revenge killing look just doesn’t look good on us.”
At that moment Nick entered the room with a tall glass of opaque liquid. “I thought Stan might need this,” he explained. Stan looked at the glass and his eyes narrowed.
Even Lenore frowned at the offer. “It’s not-”
“Blood? No, just whiskey,” Nick told them.
“Then he’ll definitely want it,” she agreed. She took the glass, shoved it into his unwilling hand, and stood. “Now drink all the doctor’s medicine and I’ll be right back.” She turned Nick around and shoved him across the hall and into the dining room. Lenore pushed him into one of the chairs and looked him over. “No bruising, I’m guessing?” she inquired.
Nick smiled. “There was, but it’s gone,” he assured her. He looked over her concerned face with teasing eyes. “Your family seems very eager to kill me,” he commented.
“Just think of it as our special welcome to the neighborhood,” she quipped. She finished looking over him, stepped back, and crossed her arms over her chest. “We werewolves heal really well, don’t we?”
“Very well, or my scar would have killed me,” he replied. He looked her over and mischievously smiled. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” she asked him.
“No wounds or bruises to inspect?”
“Um, I wasn’t part of your fight-ah!” Nick grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. She squirmed and squealed as he tickled and touched her.
“Let go of me!” she demanded.
“Can’t you two get a room?” a voice hoarsely told them. They froze and whipped their heads to the doorway where stood Stan. He held his empty glass in his hand and a small smile on his lips.
“This is my home,” Nick reminded him.
“And that’s my sister in your lap,” Stan countered.
Lenore jumped up and brushed herself off. Nick arose to stand beside her. “Not anymore, and he was just-well, just inspecting me for any damage.”
“I’m sure,” Stan quipped. He turned to Nick and his smile slipped. “You said nothing would change for her day-to-day life? What about beyond that? What about children? A future?”
“Children are possible, and a future is likely,” Nick assured him.
“And there’s no trouble being a werewolf?” Stan wondered.
Nick raised an eyebrow. “There can be complications,” he admitted.
“What sort of complications?” Stan persisted.
“There are certain people who treat us like a disease. That makes them rather unfriendly toward us,” Nick replied.
“And do you have someone like that following you now?” Stan asked him.
Lenore glanced between Stan and Nick. “Um, I get the feeling you two know something that you’re not telling me,” she commented.
“I would also like to know where this line of questioning is going,” Nick agreed.
Stan pursed his lips and his eyes flickered over to Lenore. “I heard your store’s security system was hacked into.”
“Yeah, so?” she countered.
“I also heard they hacked into the system a week ago, just after Nick here came into town,” Stan added.
“What does that prove?” she argued.
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that somebody’s hacking into all the security cameras in town just when Nick comes here,” Stan pointed out.
Nick looked agitated and his eyes narrowed as he thought over Stan’s information. “All the cameras in town were hacked?” he asked Stan.
“All the ones from one company, but that company protects most of the town,” Stan replied.
“Did the company cut off the hack, or did it cease on its own?” Nick wondered.
“On its own,” Stan told him.
“What night did they last have control?” Nick asked him.
“Last night.”
Nick’s eyes widened, and they flickered over to Lenore. She blinked and furrowed her brow. “What? I didn’t have anything to do with it,” she defended herself.
“You felt the effects of the change at your store?” Nick asked her.
She nodded. “Yeah, why?”
“Where?”
She frowned. “In the parking lot, and then in the backroom. Why?”
Stan’s eyes widened. “You think whoever hacked the cameras saw her and got what they wanted?” he guessed, addressing Nick.
“Yes, I do,” Nick agreed.
Lenore held up her hands and glared at the pair. “Could you two let me in on this conversation because I’m pretty sure you’re talking about me,” she demanded.
Nick sighed and gestured to the chairs around the dining table. “We may want to be seated,” he suggested. Lenore plopped herself down in a chair and Stan took another. Nick himself paced the floor between them. “I haven’t always been able to control the beast within me. Occasionally I have made-well, we shall call them mistakes.”
“Did you kill anyone?” Stan questioned.
A bitter smile slipped onto Nick’s face. “Yes, but not to feed. On occasion I have been careless in my prowling and have been caught rummaging around in trash cans.”
Lenore’s face fell. “Is this something I’m going to be doing?” she wondered.
Nick chuckled. “I’m afraid so, but to explain myself further, I have made it known in past towns that werewolves do exist and that one resided wherever I traveled. That caught the attention of several individuals who believe they would perform a public service if they killed me,” he told them.
“Werewolf hunters?” Stan guessed.
Nick’s smile slipped off his face and he nodded. “Yes. Various ones have tracked me down over the last fifty years and tried to kill me. In order to defend myself I have had to kill them.”
“I bet their buddies didn’t like you doing that,” Stan quipped.
Nick snorted. “No, I’m afraid they didn’t. I have dealt with enough of them that I hear I’m quite a legend among
the hunters. The one who got away.” He bitterly laughed at the title. “Some of them see it as a game, a sport. They hunt down werewolves and place a notch on their guns when they kill their prey.”
“So you what? Think these are the guys who hacked into the security systems and watched the town?” Lenore wondered.
“As Stan said, it is not a coincidence. I came here to escape a pair of such avid hunters, but it seems they followed my scent,” Nick replied. He paused and looked over Lenore. “And I’m afraid they may have found something more than they expected.”
Lenore glanced down at herself and, seeing nothing, looked to Nick. “What? Me?” she squeaked.
“You, and the first evidences of your change,” he explained. “Knowing I would need to buy meat they would have been watching the store most carefully. They probably hoped to figure out a pattern to my visits and hope to catch me unawares in the parking lot or some dark alley around the store. Unfortunately, they found you before they established that pattern.”
Lenore’s eyes widened. “B-but I’m not their target! I haven’t done anything to anybody!” she protested.
Nick shook his head. “That means nothing to them. They see only that you are a werewolf, and because of that you must be killed.”
Stan jumped to his feet and glared at Nick. “This is the future you said she’d have? Being hunted down like an animal?” he protested.
“It isn’t constant, and this pair of hunters is a rare breed. Many hunters aren’t equipped to chase me across the country, never mind hack into a security system,” Nick told him.
“So how to you usually get rid of these guys? Eat them?” Stan asked him.
The corners of Nick’s lips twitched upward. “Actually, yes.” Stan and Lenore paused and blinked at him. “It leaves very little evidence and removes them from my trail,” Nick defended himself.
Lenore snorted. “So do we-um, do humans really taste like chicken?” she wondered.
Stan frowned at her. “That’s not something I want to hear you ask,” he scolded her.
She sheepishly smiled and shrugged. “I just want to be prepared for the taste in case I bite somebody,” she countered.
