Werewolf, (n) 1; a mythological or folkloric human with the ability to shape-shift into a wolf or an anthropomorphic wolf-like creature, either purposely, by being bitten by another werewolf, or after being placed under a curse. This transformation is often associated with the appearance of the full-moon
2; A person transformed into a wolf in form and appetite, either temporarily or permanently, whether by supernatural influences, by witchcraft, or voluntarily; a lycanthrope. Belief in werewolves, formerly general, is not now extinct.
"And, that would of course mean that…"
" Don't you just think this dress is...?"
" So, then the girl..."
"But, of course the proper thing to do.."
"and so, I said..."
The annoying quips from the pretty girls kept coming. Cain nodded, the boredom that was suffocating him cleverly hidden behind his mask, not really listening to the jabbering of the flock of women surrounding him at the party.
If he could have his way, of course he would be back in his room, hidden away from the world, playing with his poisons, or submersing himself in some form of mystery readings. Or finding some way to kill every last one of Delilah.
"Err...Earl...?" on of the broads questioned, her face tilted, and lips in a pout. Snapping from his grimace-inducing thoughts, he returned to the planet his corporal self was at, and met his servant's eyes from across the room.
With a curt nod, he excused himself, meeting his Riff at the exit of the massive ballroom he'd been coerced into coming to. "Damned Uncle Neil..." he muttered, just so only the silver haired man could hear. Many of the guests had begun to leave, it was long after dusk, and people were wary of being out past certain hours.
Riff shifted the over coat he carried onto the slim shoulder's of his master, and followed him out.
"Earl Hargreaves!" the girlish shrill was accompanied by the clicking of women's heels.
As the young Earl turned to glare at whoever the woman was, Riffs arm jutted into his face, preventing the woman's open palm from connecting with his face. The woman let out a disgruntled huff, and glared defiantly at the men.
"How rude! You just up and leave in the midst of several conversations!"
Dawning a smile, "Please excuse my rude behavior, I'm afraid it's getting late and-"
His words were cut short by a streak of white, and he was knocked on his back. A few meters away, the woman now lay, not even a scream coming from her throat, for it had been ripped out. Blood sprayed over Cain's face, as the figure tore at one of the brunette's arms was split at the joint, and gnawed on. The grisly scene was like something out of a poorly written horror novel...
He watched in morbid fascination as the body of the petite, curly haired girl was dragged into the surrounding woods, her fingernails clawing at the ground, and her blood (it seemed endless) spurted from her neck and limbs. Everything was perfectly illuminated in the full moon's light.
A low guttural noise came from the woods. It surely wasn't a woman's groans... it sounded tortured, and agonized all the same though. As if it were the death cries of a man, except magnified. Already, Several people were rushing out, and he heard the worried murmurs, and fainting of women at the sight of the blood.
"Riff, I believe I am ready to retire..." the stoic as ever (in front of everyone else) Earl said, wanting to escape before the Scotland Yard came.
Riff nodded, continuing along with his master to the waiting buggy. Once inside, with the curtains drawn, Cain collapsed next to his quiet companion, linking their cold hands together. The dark haired one furrowed his brow, as his servant curled his head close to his chest...the same position used to comfort him as a crying child.
"I am not in need of your comforting. I am not distraught,. I simply desire your...company." ...'hmph, to believe a little gore should frighten me'...
"Forgive me, Master Cain," he replied, kissing their joined hands.
"I do believe we've witnessed the third in a procession of killings. What is the press calling them? The Full-moon murders?" he continued at the loll of his Riff's head, "there are more to come, I know. Hum, what an indignant girl..." the rest of the ride as carried out in pleasant silence, every bump in the cobble stone road causing their legs to bmp against each other in the close proximity.
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Riff's brushes against the skin of his back did not go unnoticed. Scar tissue was unusually sensitive. Although, not in the conventional way. You didn't feel much through scarred skin, you more so felt the presence, that tingle, as someone else's fingers brushed over them. Cain kept his mouth shut, allowing the older man to undress him for his bath.
The hot water swirled around him, burning him in the most delightful way. He dunked his head under, rinsing the woman's vile blood off. He reached up to grab at Riff as he tried to leave, snatching the sleeve of his arm, pulling the older man down to him. He held the other man tightly to him, getting his sleeves wet. No sooner, and he was relinquished from the hug.
There had been two previous murders, each a month apart at the peak of the full moon, of course, the media, and the gossipers went wild with the news, chaos ensuing after the second murder. Naturally, the timing brought even more panic, people clinging to the rumor of 'werewolves'
The only difference was that the two previous killings had happened with no known witnesses around, in the solitude of darkness after midnight. Both bodies had been found with scratch marks, bite marks, and shredded skin, pieces missing. This one, had been done in a place with lots of witnesses, careless, and quick. The work unplanned, or done by an idiot. Which meant the killer was becoming more careless, more blood hungry, less stable. It was the in between period for a newbie, and the expert. It'd be the ideal time to figure out the mystery.
Cain stepped out of the cold water into the waiting towel, "I will only ever drink your tea, my most dear." Cain said, hinting at his request, and arching a brow at the warm drink being handed to him out of no where.
"I do hope these new occurrences will put an end to Master Cain's idleness"
Cain answered him with his mischievous smile, and fell back onto his bed. Taking this as a sign to leave, Riff exited, returning to his quarters.
'You never do stay...even with my invitations..' the young Earl shut his eyes.