Okay. Firstly, Werewolf: The Apocalypse is owned/created/copyrighted by White Wolf Publishing
Now, here's some history notes for this story. I wrote this a while ago (August 2003, I believe), and the two chapters I have written already are likely to be the only ones. I really like what I've got so far, but... I have no idea where to take it from here (I know where I want the story to end, but I'm stuck on how to get from here to there). I've started several continuations, but I don't really like where any of them are going. Another note: pronounce "Dejuhty" as "dih-zjou-it-ee." Anyway, here it goes:
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Jagged streaks of white light knifed angrily across the midnight sky, closely followed by the deep rumble of thunder. For a brief instant, the lightning illuminated the inside of a small room, a room in which a pale-skinned, black-haired girl stood. Ashley Henderson; seventeen years old. She stood before the window, gazing out at the moon-brightened sky, her nose almost touching the glass. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back and her dark eyes glaring. Her black hair hung down to just a little past her shoulders. Her mouth was pulled into a tight frown. She had been up all night; she knew that something was coming. She could feel something coming. But what...?
She sensed that whatever was coming... whatever was coming, it would change her life, change her world. She hoped that was true. She despised the world she was in, the life she was living. Something seemed to be... missing. Her life so far seemed like no more than filler space; it couldn't go on like this forever. In recent weeks, she'd been moody, depressed, and--above all--angry. Angry at everything and at nothing. Some kind of pressure was building up inside of her, almost like a tangible thing, and soon it will be too strong and something would just... snap. She was sure that, whatever it was that was coming, it had something to do with this.
She prayed it would come soon.
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I took a slow, quiet step back from the window, then turned around and studied the wall. I was tired of watching the light show outside, and tired of this waiting. What was I waiting for...? As the long hours dragged on, I began to doubt my intuition more and more. I was waiting for something. I knew something was coming. I had felt it... sensed it... but had I really? Grimacing, I turned to the left and walked a few steps; then, reaching a wall, turned and walked in the opposite direction. By then, I wasn't even sure it wasn't just a dream I had woken up from or... or something. I paced back and forth restlessly (something I did often), my raven-black hair lashing out angrily behind me. What was I waiting for? What? I finally decided it didn't matter... whatever was going to happen would happen, and it's not like I had anything better to do in the meantime. I couldn't get to sleep, of course; every nerve, every tissue, every cell in my body felt unbelievably alive, just tingling with some sort of restless energy. I was more awake than I had ever been before. Yes, something was coming. Something that would change my life forever... I hoped.
But I was tired of waiting. I was--
There.
I stopped pacing... stopped moving... stopped breathing. I turned my head--slowly, so slowly--towards the open door that led out into the hallway. I listened intently, at the moment completely unaware that my hearing was much better than it had been a few moments ago. I took a small step toward the door--slowly, gingerly, and most of all quietly--and listened. My mind was clear of everything but listening; I didn't think of the storm, of the feeling of something approaching, of the waiting. None of it mattered now. And... again, I heard something.
It wasn't loud. It was nothing but a slow, quiet creaking. But it wasn't just the normal groan of the wood; it was obvious that this sound was made by feet. The idea never even occurred to me that it might be one of my parents (or, rather, the people who served as my parents this week--I've lived my life with many a foster family); I could hear their quiet breathing in the room next to mine, so it was obvious it wasn't one of them.
Another creak; not the same. So there were two of them now. Interesting.
I suddenly realized that what I had been waiting for had finally appeared. Not the creaking sound of intruding feet, of course, but instead... what was happening to me now.
My whole body seemed to be moving, twisting, growing... shifting, changing. I noticed the ceiling was... no... no, not the ceiling; I was getting taller. What was happening to me..? My legs, my arms, my neck, everything was growing, lengthening, bulking up. My skin stretched and pulled and grew along with everything else. I looked down at my now-huge hand and noticed tiny black dots covering its surface; soon, the black dots elongated into short fibers. They kept pushing out, more and more of them, longer and longer... hair. No, not just hair... fur. I felt the base of my spine lengthen, growing longer and finally pushing outwards, pulling and stretching skin along with it.
A tail. I was growing a tail.
The most startling change of all, however, was my face. My mouth, my jaws, stretched outward, elongating into a snout. ...A snout?
My nose changed, moved upwards and shifted into something that felt quite unlike a nose; my ears stretched and were pulled upwards; my eyes migrated to the sides of my head, giving me a wider field of vision but less depth perception. My teeth grew longer and sharper, and my fingernails followed suit, curving into long hawk-like talons.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I am... stunned. Stunned. Can't think straight. Shocked. The transformation seems to be complete; I can't feel anything moving--shifting--anymore. I don't know what happened. It must be a dream. I have been having bizarre, insane dreams lately. But this doesn't feel like one.
And, quite frankly... I'm not sure I want it to be one.
Now I feel... strong. Powerful. I feel invincible. I don't know what happened, and I don't really care; my body has mutated into some sort of creature, monster even, but it feels... wonderful. I flex the powerful new muscles in my arm. Nothing can stop me now... nothing! My interesting new mouth splits into a sneering, toothy canine grin. Because that's what I am now: a canine. A canine that walks on two legs, like a human, but much bigger, more powerful--powerful--than either. The room is momentarily lit up by three quick, intensely bright flashes. I turn my head towards the window--rather enjoying how strong and capable the muscles in my neck feel when doing so--and, for the first time that night, really notice the disc of bright, silvery light in the sky. A full moon.
A full moon. Of course. A crazy idea strikes me. Slowly, still enjoying the incredible power of my new muscles, I turn my head upwards until my nose is pointing at the ceiling. Air rushes up my throat and through my vocal cords in the form of a long, murderous cry. A wild, primal howl.
A howl. A full moon. Of course.
Just a story, a legend?
As the sound gradually dies away in my throat, I begin to realize just how hungry I am. A strange, murderous ecstasy rises within me. I want to kill something... anything. All I want right now is to find something and then rend muscle from bone. Tear and slash and bite. Partly to put these new muscles of mine to use, and partly... well, partly just for fun.
And there are trespassers in my home. My territory.
I bunch the powerful muscles in my haunches--they seem like huge springs, compressed but ready to pop back to full size anytime--and crouch. I tense a little... wait, and then... abruptly, the muscles explode into action, pushing me forward as I leap forward, out the door, and land with a heavy, booming thud on the floor of the hall. I walk forward slowly, well aware that I could creep along more quietly, but enjoying the sound of my thunderous footsteps. Again, I feel so... powerful. Invincible. I am no longer a mere human, I'm a mighty wolf-beast... a force of nature. Nothing can stop me..!
The hall runs north to south; my room and my parents' room are attached to it on the western wall. When I left the room, I had turned left--north--and now, at the end of the hall, I turn to the right once again. I pounce, not on anything in particular, but just to experience the joy of the leap again. I jump, and sail down over the stairs--the stairs at the end of the hallway, the stairs that lead down to the living room--and over the heads of the two men beginning to ascend them. The house trembles at the impact, and I grin once more, exposing long, lupine fangs.
I turn around and show them my teeth. This time, though, my lip is pulled back into a snarl, not a grin, and a deep, menacing growl accompanies it. They should've picked someone else's house to break into. No matter.
The two men turn around quickly, glaring at me. Neither's face is exactly the mask of terror I was hoping for... but that's okay. I'm going to kill them. They're intruding in my house, unwelcome, and something about them seems very wrong. I'm going to kill them; not only are they trespassing, but they are small, weak, human... prey. Prey. I feel just like a cat cornering a mouse. Or a wolf with a rabbit, I suppose. Predator and prey.
I rush forward... it seems like I'm losing my mind... I actually feel my rationality slipping away, I can't think clearly, what's happening, what is happening? Step forward, can't even see anymore; vision slowly blurs and turns red. Bright red. Like blood. Only see movement. Lunge at the first man, bury my teeth in his stomach, scream of pain. Screaming stops abruptly. Feet. Stepping in something... soft? Rooting around in ravaged chest cavity. Hungry. Blood. Something soft. Chew. Pull, sound of fleshy tissue tearing. Blood. Hunger. Thundering heartbeat. Blood. Bite down. Small man's heart stops beating, blood, more blood, long, stringy, some sort of unidentifiable viscera. Blood, chew, bite, pull. Something soft. Chew. Soft--crunchy. Soft again. Chew. Bite. Chew, blood. Bite. More blood--
Pain! Back up. Less blood. I can see--
Pain! More pain! Searing agony in my left shoulder! I shake my head, desperately trying to come back to my senses. Pain! What is it? Still smell blood. Turn around. Bare teeth at the other... other man... no, not a man now. Not a human at all. I can feel my thoughts slowly return to normal, but along with them is something I had not felt at all since the change.
Fear. I was afraid. Deathly afraid. This 'man' who had broken into my house was now just as inhuman as I was.
He, too, was a gigantic wolf-beast.
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I gasped in horror and disgust; something was obviously very, very wrong with it. It. ...I can't bring myself to think of it as a 'he,' but I guess that's what it--he--is. This new wolf-creature looked at me with cold, dead eyes... eyes that were completely white. But where the eyes failed to convey emotion, the rest of his face--no, the rest of his body, really--more than made up for it. What I saw in that one look was nothing but seething, burning hatred... raw fury. Rage. The sensations I had had earlier--of power, of strength...bloodlust, hunger...invincibility--drained away, falling like sand through my fingers. What replaced it was nothing but pure dread. Terror. Horror. This beast wasn't much taller than me, but it was obvious from the huge, bulging muscles that, no matter how strong I had felt earlier, I was frail and scrawny compared to him. This wolf-creature was a muscular, nine-foot-tall monster with skin of a sickly, pallid pinkish colour; it was utterly devoid of hair. It held up a hand, and I saw something long and red dangling from one of his long, wickedly curved talons.
A bloody strip of flesh. From my shoulder.
He pulled back his lip, revealing a mouthful of long, thin, needle-like teeth. He voiced a low, rumbling growl while his ears twitched back and forth restlessly. As his eyes focused on his dead comrade--was that... did I kill him?... I... oh God, I did, didn't I?--his entire body began to tremble violently. His horrible snarl grew louder, until it became an ungodly scream of hatred. Its saliva--a thick, coagulated fluid that teemed with small chunks of something that might have been flesh--dripped out of its mouth, over its sickly black gums, and splattered onto the floor below with an acidic hiss.
He took a step forward, and my heart sank. Terrified as I was, I had still hoped against hope that perhaps I could fight him... but now, well, now I could see another shape, this one crouched in the shadows behind the hairless monster. This new arrival stood up slowly, and I saw moonlight reflecting off of a long, curved object; a blade of some sort.
...Moonlight? There were no windows in the room. Where was the light coming from?
...Isn't it funny how, here I am, about to be slaughtered by two huge beasts who, before tonight, I hadn't thought could even exist... and I'm wondering about a reflection on a sword? Ha. Ain't that a laugh, I thought caustically.
As the hairless werewolf's horrifying shriek faded away, he turned away from the torn body and glared at me balefully. He walked forward slowly, raising his great curved claws to strike. The second werewolf stepped out of the deep shadows (silently, so silently)... and I gasped in awe. This beast was incredibly different from the hellish creature before me. His fur was as dark as my own, but most of it was shorter and smoother, except for the fur that ran along his jawline, the undersides of his arms, and his tail. This fur looked long and thick, giving him a somewhat regal appearance. The shape and form of his head and long, upright ears weren't exactly that of a wolf... more like a jackal's, really. I now saw that he had two blades, one in each hand. Both swords had long, golden handles on which thousands of tiny, intricate patterns and glyphs had been carved. The steel blade went straight from the handle for about six inches, where it turned quickly and became a long, semicircular curve. He held the twin swords in front of him, facing not straight forward but away from himself a bit.
Along with several other pieces of ornamentation, he wore a necklace, a thick black cord with a golden disc hanging from it. The disc had a symbol on it, an Egyptian glyph of some sort; I could see it easily. The only light--besides that silvery moonlight, of course--was the nightlight that my adopt-a-mom had installed in the upstairs hallway after she tripped and almost fell down the stairs in the dark, but I could see just fine with these wolfish new eyes of mine. I couldn't remember what the symbol meant, but I had seen it before.
The fully-furred werewolf slowly pulled his arms, and the swords, backwards, turning the blades so that the curve faced backwards, not downwards. Poising to strike. I whimpered softly, feeling incredibly weak... lost and hopeless. Why did they want to kill me? Couldn't they see that I was a creature--a werewolf--just like them? What was wrong with them... what was wrong with me, that they'd want to kill me? I had never felt so helpless in my life. I was doomed.
The black werewolf pulled his left arm back even further, turning like he was cocking a baseball bat. He paused for an instant, then quickly snapped his arm forwards, faster than should have been possible, and the sword raced through the cool air like a hawk diving towards its prey. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could hear the air whistling over the blade... I could almost feel the cold steel cutting into my arm even before it actually hit me. And...
...that was all.
The blade bit deep into werewolf flesh... but not mine. The depilated werewolf howled in agony and whirled around backwards to face his assailant, all in the same instant. His hook-like claws shot upwards, flashing silver in the moonlight, and struck the sword wielder's chest, leaving long, diagonal ribbons of bright crimson in their wake. Sword-Wielder yanked his blade out of Hairless' arm with ease. Both werewolves paused for the briefest of instants, and the only sound was the quiet drip of blood from Sword-Wielder's blade.
Sword-Wielder snarled and, with a quick flick of his wrist, snapped his hand forward and unclenched his fist. The sword sailed through the air and lodged itself deep in Hairless' shoulder. He screeched--a high-pitched sound that sounded more like a bat than a wolf--and pulled the blade out, flinging it against the wall and away from its owner.
Why were they fighting? They're probably arguing over who gets to eat me, I thought bitterly.
Hairless snarled savagely, then launched himself at Sword-Wielder, ducking his head low to avoid the second blade as it was swung at him. He snapped his horrible jaws at the black-furred werewolf's midsection, slicing through the skin with his fangs. Sword-Wielder cried out in pain and abruptly swung the sword down towards Hairless. He had done it too quickly to turn the blade so that it would cut into him; instead, Hairless was struck on the top of the head with the flat of the blade. He didn't react at all, instead biting deeper into his adversary's stomach. Sword-Wielder swung the sword again...
...but...
...Hairless snapped his head sideways, quick, much too quick, and bit down on the swinging blade, cutting his mouth but stopping the swinging blade dead in its tracks. Before Sword-Wielder could react, Hairless pulled away and wrenched the sword from its owner's grasp, then opened his jaws and flung the sword through the air. It hit the wall near me and clattered to the ground. I eyed it warily, wondering if maybe I should pick it up. But if I did, would they both turn on me, and then finish their squabble after I was dead...? I decided to leave the curved sword alone, at least for the moment. It's not like I really knew how to fight with it, anyway. And I did have claws and teeth, after all. They probably wouldn't be enough to defeat even one of the two combatants, when they got around to attacking me instead of each other, but it was better than nothing...I guess...
The two tore into each other again, more viciously than before. They jumped and clawed, slashed and hissed. They were nothing but a blur of fur and skin, talons and teeth, torn flesh and spilled blood. I saw Hairless' arm slash through the air in a wide arc, cutting deep into Sword-Wielder's chest; an instant later, a mass of bright scarlet droplets splattered onto the wall behind him. I heard a howl of pain from the black-furred beast, then the sickening sound of bone snapping as he kicked Hairless hard in the ribs.
They moved in a sort of bizarre, feral dance, always trying to dodge the other or land a blow. The living room was relatively bare furniture-wise, but what was there was crushed, snapped, broken and bent by this primal dance. I felt the whole house quake when they hit the ground or the wall. They slowed down for an instant as Hairless pulled backwards quickly... then barreled into Sword-Wielder like a freight train. The black werewolf flew backwards and hit the wall with a pained grunt and a bone-crunching thud, and I saw a mess of red goo--not all liquid--fly out of his open mouth. He gasped, then ducked down when he saw Hairless' hooked talons slicing through the air towards him. His arms shot forward and pushed the hairless monster's bulk away from him.
Suddenly an eerie silence fell over the room, broken by nothing but the steady dripping of their hot blood. A kind of lull had come over their killing dance. Both werewolves stood, glaring at each other furiously. I could feel the tension in the room building and growing... and then, as if on cue, it shattered...
...and the two dueling monsters dove towards each other again, soon nothing but a seething mass of muscle, blood, fur and flesh. I saw Sword-Wielder--that's how I thought of him, even after he had lost his swords--bite down on Hairless' shoulder, then pull his head backwards violently, tearing off a huge chunk of bloody flesh in the process. He shook his head once--sending droplets of blood flying--then spat the meat onto the floor, grimacing down at it. When Sword-Wielder looked back up, he saw Hairless charging at him, mouth wide open.
It was the last move the scantily-furred monstrosity ever made.
The black werewolf jerked his head down at the last second and snapped his jaws around Hairless' neck, clamping down like a bear trap. He uttered a satisfied snarl and yanked backwards, tearing out most of Hairless' soft, vulnerable throat. A fountain of hot blood immediately gushed out, coating Sword-Wielder's face. He absentmindedly wiped at his snout with a hand--or was it a paw? It looked like both, actually--but was obviously more intent on watching his victim collapse to the floor and spasm wildly. Hairless' claws clutched weakly, and his mouth opened and closed repeatedly. Nothing came out but a strange gurgling sound ...and a trickle of blood that quickly grew into a rhythmic torrent, gushing out in time with the pulse of his heart. As if that wasn't enough, Sword-Wielder bent down, grabbed hold of the remains of Hairless' neck--including the now-exposed spine--in his powerful jaws and, with a grunt and a twist of his head, snapped it in half. The beast's limbs immediately stopped twitching.
Still sitting on the stairs, I looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet the black werewolves' eyes... eyes that were now staring right at me.
The werewolf growled. "Stand up," it said. So I--
Wait.
I shook my head violently. No, no, the werewolf had growled, not spoken. How did I hear "Stand up?" It... must have just been my imagination. Maybe I was imagining all of this. Every minute that passed, I wished all the more that it was, in fact, a dream, yes, a dream, at first, well, it was amazing, but--
"Stand up."
It had growled... spoken... again. It was insanely clear this time. It hadn't actually spoken, of course; but, somehow, I could understand exactly what that sound had meant. Like how you can determine someone's mood by their facial expressions, I suppose.
There was no way I had just imagined that. I gulped, then stood up, slowly, still staring at the ground. When I had stood up as tall as I could--I was still bent nearly double under this low ceiling--I reluctantly looked at the werewolf who, I assumed, was now going to explain everything--like the antagonists always did, in the movies (if only this was a movie, I thought with a sigh)--and then kill me.
But instead of a murderous sneer or a glare of smoldering fury, what I saw on his face was... amusement. It almost looked like he was grinning... was he grinning..?
"We need to leave," he said in a soft, urgent but unthreatening growl. "Now."
As if on cue, I heard the first wailing of a siren from a police car.
The police...?
My heart sank. Of course the police were coming. I'm sure my parents didn't sleep through all of this; they must have heard the commotion downstairs, been too frightened to see what it was (bravery was not their strongest virtue--not that I would have come to down to see, either, if I hadn't been there already), and called the cops on that little cell phone my mom keeps on the lampstand. The neighbors probably heard everything, too. It was a wonder they weren't here already.
So. We had to leave. But why? Why wasn't he just going to kill me now and get it over with? Not that I was complaining, but it didn't make any sense why he'd want to murder me later instead. I wouldn't be able to put up as much of a fight as the hairless werewolf had. Or maybe he wasn't going to kill me? I hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe...
So I nodded--I thought about trying to growl back an answer, then quickly abandoned that idea--and stumbled forward, towards the door. Sword-Wielder, who was standing closer to the door, opened it, then held a hand up, palm out. I stopped.
I gasped suddenly, and my eyes grew wider. He was... changing, shifting... like I was earlier... but backwards. He seemed to be... melting back into a normal human. I noticed it was also quite different from my own change; where mine had been an awkward, unequal, mutating experience, his change was much smoother, more flowing and graceful. More... practiced? I suppose so.
His was also much quicker (although, I'm sure mine hadn't been quite as long as it seemed). When he was finished, he was a tall, thin man who looked to have been of Middle Eastern descent. He had short, dark hair, and secretive, knowing eyes, bright green and sparkling (weren't they amber a few second ago..?). He wore faded khaki jeans, tennis shoes, and a T-shirt that looked like it might have once been white. He...
...hadn't worn anything but his jewelry when he was a werewolf. How did that work..? And... when ...if... I changed back, would I be fully clothed? But my clothes were torn to shreds when I changed!
As if he were reading my mind, he motioned to a backpack sitting by the door (had he put that there? I guess so), and said, "I have extra clothes for you. I figured you'd need them," in a soft, soothing voice. I was already starting to wonder if this man really was the huge snarling beast who had just killed the monster still bleeding on the carpet of the living room. Or had it? Maybe it was all just--
No. I glanced down and saw Hairless' disfigured remains on the floor. It had been quite real, of course it had. And, although he was human now, Sword-Wielder was still splattered with blood and covered with cuts and lacerations.
He walked across the room briskly, limping slightly, and twice reached down to retrieve his swords. For the first time, I noticed the two long, equally curved sheaths he wore across his back. The blades slid into them with a hiss, and then he walked back to the door and picked up his backpack. He glanced at me impatiently, then pointed towards the door. I nodded, listening nervously to the approaching sirens. If we didn't get out of here quick, they'd see me... and I didn't know how to change back to what I was before. And, once again, I wasn't really sure I wanted to... I was starting to enjoy this again, now that the immediate threat was over and all, and I was sure he wasn't going to slit my throat and, like, eat me or anything--
Oh really? Was I that sure? I mean, sure, he had turned human, but does that mean he couldn't become a werewolf again? I think not. But--
Oh, come on. Remember what you asked before? You wondered why they wanted to kill you when you were a werewolf just like them. That hairless freak was the messed up one; this werewolf's trying to help you.
But can I be sure of that? I mean, it can't be just a coincidence that they both ended up at my house the very same night... especially this night. And what if he's just trying to lull me into a false sense of security or something?
Why would he do that? You think he couldn't tear you to pieces if he wanted to?
He could have some ulterior motive. Maybe I'm stronger than I think, or--
And even if he is planning on killing you... just what are you going to do about it, exactly? You don't have a lot of choice.
I growled and shook my head angrily. I hated it when I started arguing with myself. That last thought echoed in my mind... Just what are you going to do about it, exactly? You don't have a lot of choice. I sighed wearily, then reluctantly trudged towards the door.
He shook his head slowly. "Human. Change back. They'll see you."
"I," I began, then stopped in surprise. It felt odd, very strange, speaking English in this form. I had a deep, guttural voice that was nothing like my real voice. After a brief pause, I tried to talk in his language... I uttered a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a growl, trying to get my point across. Actually, it was surprisingly easy; instinct was taking over, speaking what needed to be spoken. "I can't," I said. "I don't know how."
He opened his mouth to reply, then paused, mouth hanging agape. The sirens were very close now. No time to explain, it seemed.
I suddenly felt a chilling sensation, like icy breath on the back of my neck. I squirmed uncomfortably, then glanced at a strange shimmering in the air. For a second, it looked like that spot was wavering, like it was above an open fire. In a span of time that probably lasted no more than a second, the form fogged and solidified until it looked like something I could only describe as a matterless void. Then a form appeared in its place, a human form. A man with medium-length, light brown hair and red-brown eyes, probably in his early twenties, stood where the wavering void had been, and a second later three other figures stood next to him. One was a huge black wolf; the other a smaller, cream-and-red wolf. The third was human, a sixteen or seventeen year old boy with short, close-cropped black hair.
More! More coming! Too many, the black wolf growled. We must stay and fight them, Dejuhty will get her out. Now! Go!
The younger boy looked questioningly to the black wolf, who grunted once. Seeming to take that as an affirmative response, he nodded and closed his eyes. His form shifted and shrunk down into a lupine form, also black but very different from the other wolf. He looked smaller, scrawnier, and the fur of his pelt was not long and thick like a wolf's should be; instead, it was smooth and short, like a black whippet or greyhound's coat. He had a sleek, agile build, instead of the raw strength and sheer power of the she-wolf's muscular frame.
He looked at me, his silver eyes glowing like twin moons. I know you don't understand this. They never do, not at first. But... you have to trust us. If you want to make it through the night.
Sword-Wielder reached into his pocket and extracted a small black object. He flipped it open to reveal a small pocket mirror.
He stepped towards me and held up the mirror. "Now. You're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you; but follow my instructions anyway. I know it sounds crazy, but it's important. Okay?"
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I knew that if we didn't hurry the police would get here soon. And I certainly didn't want to be here--not looking like this, anyway--when they arrived.
He held out the mirror. "Take this. Look into it, into your reflection."
I grasped the mirror clumsily with my oversized hands (hands... paws... whatever they were), and stared into it. I tilted it back and forth a few times, until I got it to where it would reflect the most light. I saw my werewolf face for the first time then: like Sword-Wielder and the silver-eyed wolf, it looked more like the black face of an Egyptian jackal-god, but my fur was scruffier and shaggier than either of theirs.
"Look into your reflection's eyes. Think of the mirror as a portal... by gazing into your own reflection, you can find the world's reflection. You--"
I jerked my head up suddenly. World's reflection? What was--
"Look back down," he commanded. "I told you this would sound crazy. Just listen to me. Just look at the mirror, and relax. Try to free your mind of all other concerns. Just concentrate on the mirror."
I did as I was told. I looked at my lupine face and tried to "free my mind." I listened to his words, trying to ignore everything else. Perhaps this was how I was supposed to change back? That didn't make a lot of sense... but... well...
"Just relax. Concentrate. Don't try to understand my words; just listen to them and obey. Look into the mirror, and try to find the other world waiting for you. Try to sense it. If you try to feel it, you'll find it. Don't fight it. It may come as a shock at first, but when you feel it, don't fight it. You..."
His words held less and less meaning, until finally they were no more than background noise. The smaller black wolf faded from the room, much in the same way he and the other wolves had entered; my mind barely registered the information. By now, I could, in fact, sense something... almost like a membrane or... a barrier of some sort... like I was walking through a...
...it felt like I was walking through a thick mass of... of... spider webs? I shuddered involuntarily, and then
...then...
...the world
shifted...
reality ...blinked
Now, here's some history notes for this story. I wrote this a while ago (August 2003, I believe), and the two chapters I have written already are likely to be the only ones. I really like what I've got so far, but... I have no idea where to take it from here (I know where I want the story to end, but I'm stuck on how to get from here to there). I've started several continuations, but I don't really like where any of them are going. Another note: pronounce "Dejuhty" as "dih-zjou-it-ee." Anyway, here it goes:
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Jagged streaks of white light knifed angrily across the midnight sky, closely followed by the deep rumble of thunder. For a brief instant, the lightning illuminated the inside of a small room, a room in which a pale-skinned, black-haired girl stood. Ashley Henderson; seventeen years old. She stood before the window, gazing out at the moon-brightened sky, her nose almost touching the glass. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back and her dark eyes glaring. Her black hair hung down to just a little past her shoulders. Her mouth was pulled into a tight frown. She had been up all night; she knew that something was coming. She could feel something coming. But what...?
She sensed that whatever was coming... whatever was coming, it would change her life, change her world. She hoped that was true. She despised the world she was in, the life she was living. Something seemed to be... missing. Her life so far seemed like no more than filler space; it couldn't go on like this forever. In recent weeks, she'd been moody, depressed, and--above all--angry. Angry at everything and at nothing. Some kind of pressure was building up inside of her, almost like a tangible thing, and soon it will be too strong and something would just... snap. She was sure that, whatever it was that was coming, it had something to do with this.
She prayed it would come soon.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I took a slow, quiet step back from the window, then turned around and studied the wall. I was tired of watching the light show outside, and tired of this waiting. What was I waiting for...? As the long hours dragged on, I began to doubt my intuition more and more. I was waiting for something. I knew something was coming. I had felt it... sensed it... but had I really? Grimacing, I turned to the left and walked a few steps; then, reaching a wall, turned and walked in the opposite direction. By then, I wasn't even sure it wasn't just a dream I had woken up from or... or something. I paced back and forth restlessly (something I did often), my raven-black hair lashing out angrily behind me. What was I waiting for? What? I finally decided it didn't matter... whatever was going to happen would happen, and it's not like I had anything better to do in the meantime. I couldn't get to sleep, of course; every nerve, every tissue, every cell in my body felt unbelievably alive, just tingling with some sort of restless energy. I was more awake than I had ever been before. Yes, something was coming. Something that would change my life forever... I hoped.
But I was tired of waiting. I was--
There.
I stopped pacing... stopped moving... stopped breathing. I turned my head--slowly, so slowly--towards the open door that led out into the hallway. I listened intently, at the moment completely unaware that my hearing was much better than it had been a few moments ago. I took a small step toward the door--slowly, gingerly, and most of all quietly--and listened. My mind was clear of everything but listening; I didn't think of the storm, of the feeling of something approaching, of the waiting. None of it mattered now. And... again, I heard something.
It wasn't loud. It was nothing but a slow, quiet creaking. But it wasn't just the normal groan of the wood; it was obvious that this sound was made by feet. The idea never even occurred to me that it might be one of my parents (or, rather, the people who served as my parents this week--I've lived my life with many a foster family); I could hear their quiet breathing in the room next to mine, so it was obvious it wasn't one of them.
Another creak; not the same. So there were two of them now. Interesting.
I suddenly realized that what I had been waiting for had finally appeared. Not the creaking sound of intruding feet, of course, but instead... what was happening to me now.
My whole body seemed to be moving, twisting, growing... shifting, changing. I noticed the ceiling was... no... no, not the ceiling; I was getting taller. What was happening to me..? My legs, my arms, my neck, everything was growing, lengthening, bulking up. My skin stretched and pulled and grew along with everything else. I looked down at my now-huge hand and noticed tiny black dots covering its surface; soon, the black dots elongated into short fibers. They kept pushing out, more and more of them, longer and longer... hair. No, not just hair... fur. I felt the base of my spine lengthen, growing longer and finally pushing outwards, pulling and stretching skin along with it.
A tail. I was growing a tail.
The most startling change of all, however, was my face. My mouth, my jaws, stretched outward, elongating into a snout. ...A snout?
My nose changed, moved upwards and shifted into something that felt quite unlike a nose; my ears stretched and were pulled upwards; my eyes migrated to the sides of my head, giving me a wider field of vision but less depth perception. My teeth grew longer and sharper, and my fingernails followed suit, curving into long hawk-like talons.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I am... stunned. Stunned. Can't think straight. Shocked. The transformation seems to be complete; I can't feel anything moving--shifting--anymore. I don't know what happened. It must be a dream. I have been having bizarre, insane dreams lately. But this doesn't feel like one.
And, quite frankly... I'm not sure I want it to be one.
Now I feel... strong. Powerful. I feel invincible. I don't know what happened, and I don't really care; my body has mutated into some sort of creature, monster even, but it feels... wonderful. I flex the powerful new muscles in my arm. Nothing can stop me now... nothing! My interesting new mouth splits into a sneering, toothy canine grin. Because that's what I am now: a canine. A canine that walks on two legs, like a human, but much bigger, more powerful--powerful--than either. The room is momentarily lit up by three quick, intensely bright flashes. I turn my head towards the window--rather enjoying how strong and capable the muscles in my neck feel when doing so--and, for the first time that night, really notice the disc of bright, silvery light in the sky. A full moon.
A full moon. Of course. A crazy idea strikes me. Slowly, still enjoying the incredible power of my new muscles, I turn my head upwards until my nose is pointing at the ceiling. Air rushes up my throat and through my vocal cords in the form of a long, murderous cry. A wild, primal howl.
A howl. A full moon. Of course.
Just a story, a legend?
As the sound gradually dies away in my throat, I begin to realize just how hungry I am. A strange, murderous ecstasy rises within me. I want to kill something... anything. All I want right now is to find something and then rend muscle from bone. Tear and slash and bite. Partly to put these new muscles of mine to use, and partly... well, partly just for fun.
And there are trespassers in my home. My territory.
I bunch the powerful muscles in my haunches--they seem like huge springs, compressed but ready to pop back to full size anytime--and crouch. I tense a little... wait, and then... abruptly, the muscles explode into action, pushing me forward as I leap forward, out the door, and land with a heavy, booming thud on the floor of the hall. I walk forward slowly, well aware that I could creep along more quietly, but enjoying the sound of my thunderous footsteps. Again, I feel so... powerful. Invincible. I am no longer a mere human, I'm a mighty wolf-beast... a force of nature. Nothing can stop me..!
The hall runs north to south; my room and my parents' room are attached to it on the western wall. When I left the room, I had turned left--north--and now, at the end of the hall, I turn to the right once again. I pounce, not on anything in particular, but just to experience the joy of the leap again. I jump, and sail down over the stairs--the stairs at the end of the hallway, the stairs that lead down to the living room--and over the heads of the two men beginning to ascend them. The house trembles at the impact, and I grin once more, exposing long, lupine fangs.
I turn around and show them my teeth. This time, though, my lip is pulled back into a snarl, not a grin, and a deep, menacing growl accompanies it. They should've picked someone else's house to break into. No matter.
The two men turn around quickly, glaring at me. Neither's face is exactly the mask of terror I was hoping for... but that's okay. I'm going to kill them. They're intruding in my house, unwelcome, and something about them seems very wrong. I'm going to kill them; not only are they trespassing, but they are small, weak, human... prey. Prey. I feel just like a cat cornering a mouse. Or a wolf with a rabbit, I suppose. Predator and prey.
I rush forward... it seems like I'm losing my mind... I actually feel my rationality slipping away, I can't think clearly, what's happening, what is happening? Step forward, can't even see anymore; vision slowly blurs and turns red. Bright red. Like blood. Only see movement. Lunge at the first man, bury my teeth in his stomach, scream of pain. Screaming stops abruptly. Feet. Stepping in something... soft? Rooting around in ravaged chest cavity. Hungry. Blood. Something soft. Chew. Pull, sound of fleshy tissue tearing. Blood. Hunger. Thundering heartbeat. Blood. Bite down. Small man's heart stops beating, blood, more blood, long, stringy, some sort of unidentifiable viscera. Blood, chew, bite, pull. Something soft. Chew. Soft--crunchy. Soft again. Chew. Bite. Chew, blood. Bite. More blood--
Pain! Back up. Less blood. I can see--
Pain! More pain! Searing agony in my left shoulder! I shake my head, desperately trying to come back to my senses. Pain! What is it? Still smell blood. Turn around. Bare teeth at the other... other man... no, not a man now. Not a human at all. I can feel my thoughts slowly return to normal, but along with them is something I had not felt at all since the change.
Fear. I was afraid. Deathly afraid. This 'man' who had broken into my house was now just as inhuman as I was.
He, too, was a gigantic wolf-beast.
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I gasped in horror and disgust; something was obviously very, very wrong with it. It. ...I can't bring myself to think of it as a 'he,' but I guess that's what it--he--is. This new wolf-creature looked at me with cold, dead eyes... eyes that were completely white. But where the eyes failed to convey emotion, the rest of his face--no, the rest of his body, really--more than made up for it. What I saw in that one look was nothing but seething, burning hatred... raw fury. Rage. The sensations I had had earlier--of power, of strength...bloodlust, hunger...invincibility--drained away, falling like sand through my fingers. What replaced it was nothing but pure dread. Terror. Horror. This beast wasn't much taller than me, but it was obvious from the huge, bulging muscles that, no matter how strong I had felt earlier, I was frail and scrawny compared to him. This wolf-creature was a muscular, nine-foot-tall monster with skin of a sickly, pallid pinkish colour; it was utterly devoid of hair. It held up a hand, and I saw something long and red dangling from one of his long, wickedly curved talons.
A bloody strip of flesh. From my shoulder.
He pulled back his lip, revealing a mouthful of long, thin, needle-like teeth. He voiced a low, rumbling growl while his ears twitched back and forth restlessly. As his eyes focused on his dead comrade--was that... did I kill him?... I... oh God, I did, didn't I?--his entire body began to tremble violently. His horrible snarl grew louder, until it became an ungodly scream of hatred. Its saliva--a thick, coagulated fluid that teemed with small chunks of something that might have been flesh--dripped out of its mouth, over its sickly black gums, and splattered onto the floor below with an acidic hiss.
He took a step forward, and my heart sank. Terrified as I was, I had still hoped against hope that perhaps I could fight him... but now, well, now I could see another shape, this one crouched in the shadows behind the hairless monster. This new arrival stood up slowly, and I saw moonlight reflecting off of a long, curved object; a blade of some sort.
...Moonlight? There were no windows in the room. Where was the light coming from?
...Isn't it funny how, here I am, about to be slaughtered by two huge beasts who, before tonight, I hadn't thought could even exist... and I'm wondering about a reflection on a sword? Ha. Ain't that a laugh, I thought caustically.
As the hairless werewolf's horrifying shriek faded away, he turned away from the torn body and glared at me balefully. He walked forward slowly, raising his great curved claws to strike. The second werewolf stepped out of the deep shadows (silently, so silently)... and I gasped in awe. This beast was incredibly different from the hellish creature before me. His fur was as dark as my own, but most of it was shorter and smoother, except for the fur that ran along his jawline, the undersides of his arms, and his tail. This fur looked long and thick, giving him a somewhat regal appearance. The shape and form of his head and long, upright ears weren't exactly that of a wolf... more like a jackal's, really. I now saw that he had two blades, one in each hand. Both swords had long, golden handles on which thousands of tiny, intricate patterns and glyphs had been carved. The steel blade went straight from the handle for about six inches, where it turned quickly and became a long, semicircular curve. He held the twin swords in front of him, facing not straight forward but away from himself a bit.
Along with several other pieces of ornamentation, he wore a necklace, a thick black cord with a golden disc hanging from it. The disc had a symbol on it, an Egyptian glyph of some sort; I could see it easily. The only light--besides that silvery moonlight, of course--was the nightlight that my adopt-a-mom had installed in the upstairs hallway after she tripped and almost fell down the stairs in the dark, but I could see just fine with these wolfish new eyes of mine. I couldn't remember what the symbol meant, but I had seen it before.
The fully-furred werewolf slowly pulled his arms, and the swords, backwards, turning the blades so that the curve faced backwards, not downwards. Poising to strike. I whimpered softly, feeling incredibly weak... lost and hopeless. Why did they want to kill me? Couldn't they see that I was a creature--a werewolf--just like them? What was wrong with them... what was wrong with me, that they'd want to kill me? I had never felt so helpless in my life. I was doomed.
The black werewolf pulled his left arm back even further, turning like he was cocking a baseball bat. He paused for an instant, then quickly snapped his arm forwards, faster than should have been possible, and the sword raced through the cool air like a hawk diving towards its prey. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could hear the air whistling over the blade... I could almost feel the cold steel cutting into my arm even before it actually hit me. And...
...that was all.
The blade bit deep into werewolf flesh... but not mine. The depilated werewolf howled in agony and whirled around backwards to face his assailant, all in the same instant. His hook-like claws shot upwards, flashing silver in the moonlight, and struck the sword wielder's chest, leaving long, diagonal ribbons of bright crimson in their wake. Sword-Wielder yanked his blade out of Hairless' arm with ease. Both werewolves paused for the briefest of instants, and the only sound was the quiet drip of blood from Sword-Wielder's blade.
Sword-Wielder snarled and, with a quick flick of his wrist, snapped his hand forward and unclenched his fist. The sword sailed through the air and lodged itself deep in Hairless' shoulder. He screeched--a high-pitched sound that sounded more like a bat than a wolf--and pulled the blade out, flinging it against the wall and away from its owner.
Why were they fighting? They're probably arguing over who gets to eat me, I thought bitterly.
Hairless snarled savagely, then launched himself at Sword-Wielder, ducking his head low to avoid the second blade as it was swung at him. He snapped his horrible jaws at the black-furred werewolf's midsection, slicing through the skin with his fangs. Sword-Wielder cried out in pain and abruptly swung the sword down towards Hairless. He had done it too quickly to turn the blade so that it would cut into him; instead, Hairless was struck on the top of the head with the flat of the blade. He didn't react at all, instead biting deeper into his adversary's stomach. Sword-Wielder swung the sword again...
...but...
...Hairless snapped his head sideways, quick, much too quick, and bit down on the swinging blade, cutting his mouth but stopping the swinging blade dead in its tracks. Before Sword-Wielder could react, Hairless pulled away and wrenched the sword from its owner's grasp, then opened his jaws and flung the sword through the air. It hit the wall near me and clattered to the ground. I eyed it warily, wondering if maybe I should pick it up. But if I did, would they both turn on me, and then finish their squabble after I was dead...? I decided to leave the curved sword alone, at least for the moment. It's not like I really knew how to fight with it, anyway. And I did have claws and teeth, after all. They probably wouldn't be enough to defeat even one of the two combatants, when they got around to attacking me instead of each other, but it was better than nothing...I guess...
The two tore into each other again, more viciously than before. They jumped and clawed, slashed and hissed. They were nothing but a blur of fur and skin, talons and teeth, torn flesh and spilled blood. I saw Hairless' arm slash through the air in a wide arc, cutting deep into Sword-Wielder's chest; an instant later, a mass of bright scarlet droplets splattered onto the wall behind him. I heard a howl of pain from the black-furred beast, then the sickening sound of bone snapping as he kicked Hairless hard in the ribs.
They moved in a sort of bizarre, feral dance, always trying to dodge the other or land a blow. The living room was relatively bare furniture-wise, but what was there was crushed, snapped, broken and bent by this primal dance. I felt the whole house quake when they hit the ground or the wall. They slowed down for an instant as Hairless pulled backwards quickly... then barreled into Sword-Wielder like a freight train. The black werewolf flew backwards and hit the wall with a pained grunt and a bone-crunching thud, and I saw a mess of red goo--not all liquid--fly out of his open mouth. He gasped, then ducked down when he saw Hairless' hooked talons slicing through the air towards him. His arms shot forward and pushed the hairless monster's bulk away from him.
Suddenly an eerie silence fell over the room, broken by nothing but the steady dripping of their hot blood. A kind of lull had come over their killing dance. Both werewolves stood, glaring at each other furiously. I could feel the tension in the room building and growing... and then, as if on cue, it shattered...
...and the two dueling monsters dove towards each other again, soon nothing but a seething mass of muscle, blood, fur and flesh. I saw Sword-Wielder--that's how I thought of him, even after he had lost his swords--bite down on Hairless' shoulder, then pull his head backwards violently, tearing off a huge chunk of bloody flesh in the process. He shook his head once--sending droplets of blood flying--then spat the meat onto the floor, grimacing down at it. When Sword-Wielder looked back up, he saw Hairless charging at him, mouth wide open.
It was the last move the scantily-furred monstrosity ever made.
The black werewolf jerked his head down at the last second and snapped his jaws around Hairless' neck, clamping down like a bear trap. He uttered a satisfied snarl and yanked backwards, tearing out most of Hairless' soft, vulnerable throat. A fountain of hot blood immediately gushed out, coating Sword-Wielder's face. He absentmindedly wiped at his snout with a hand--or was it a paw? It looked like both, actually--but was obviously more intent on watching his victim collapse to the floor and spasm wildly. Hairless' claws clutched weakly, and his mouth opened and closed repeatedly. Nothing came out but a strange gurgling sound ...and a trickle of blood that quickly grew into a rhythmic torrent, gushing out in time with the pulse of his heart. As if that wasn't enough, Sword-Wielder bent down, grabbed hold of the remains of Hairless' neck--including the now-exposed spine--in his powerful jaws and, with a grunt and a twist of his head, snapped it in half. The beast's limbs immediately stopped twitching.
Still sitting on the stairs, I looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet the black werewolves' eyes... eyes that were now staring right at me.
The werewolf growled. "Stand up," it said. So I--
Wait.
I shook my head violently. No, no, the werewolf had growled, not spoken. How did I hear "Stand up?" It... must have just been my imagination. Maybe I was imagining all of this. Every minute that passed, I wished all the more that it was, in fact, a dream, yes, a dream, at first, well, it was amazing, but--
"Stand up."
It had growled... spoken... again. It was insanely clear this time. It hadn't actually spoken, of course; but, somehow, I could understand exactly what that sound had meant. Like how you can determine someone's mood by their facial expressions, I suppose.
There was no way I had just imagined that. I gulped, then stood up, slowly, still staring at the ground. When I had stood up as tall as I could--I was still bent nearly double under this low ceiling--I reluctantly looked at the werewolf who, I assumed, was now going to explain everything--like the antagonists always did, in the movies (if only this was a movie, I thought with a sigh)--and then kill me.
But instead of a murderous sneer or a glare of smoldering fury, what I saw on his face was... amusement. It almost looked like he was grinning... was he grinning..?
"We need to leave," he said in a soft, urgent but unthreatening growl. "Now."
As if on cue, I heard the first wailing of a siren from a police car.
The police...?
My heart sank. Of course the police were coming. I'm sure my parents didn't sleep through all of this; they must have heard the commotion downstairs, been too frightened to see what it was (bravery was not their strongest virtue--not that I would have come to down to see, either, if I hadn't been there already), and called the cops on that little cell phone my mom keeps on the lampstand. The neighbors probably heard everything, too. It was a wonder they weren't here already.
So. We had to leave. But why? Why wasn't he just going to kill me now and get it over with? Not that I was complaining, but it didn't make any sense why he'd want to murder me later instead. I wouldn't be able to put up as much of a fight as the hairless werewolf had. Or maybe he wasn't going to kill me? I hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe...
So I nodded--I thought about trying to growl back an answer, then quickly abandoned that idea--and stumbled forward, towards the door. Sword-Wielder, who was standing closer to the door, opened it, then held a hand up, palm out. I stopped.
I gasped suddenly, and my eyes grew wider. He was... changing, shifting... like I was earlier... but backwards. He seemed to be... melting back into a normal human. I noticed it was also quite different from my own change; where mine had been an awkward, unequal, mutating experience, his change was much smoother, more flowing and graceful. More... practiced? I suppose so.
His was also much quicker (although, I'm sure mine hadn't been quite as long as it seemed). When he was finished, he was a tall, thin man who looked to have been of Middle Eastern descent. He had short, dark hair, and secretive, knowing eyes, bright green and sparkling (weren't they amber a few second ago..?). He wore faded khaki jeans, tennis shoes, and a T-shirt that looked like it might have once been white. He...
...hadn't worn anything but his jewelry when he was a werewolf. How did that work..? And... when ...if... I changed back, would I be fully clothed? But my clothes were torn to shreds when I changed!
As if he were reading my mind, he motioned to a backpack sitting by the door (had he put that there? I guess so), and said, "I have extra clothes for you. I figured you'd need them," in a soft, soothing voice. I was already starting to wonder if this man really was the huge snarling beast who had just killed the monster still bleeding on the carpet of the living room. Or had it? Maybe it was all just--
No. I glanced down and saw Hairless' disfigured remains on the floor. It had been quite real, of course it had. And, although he was human now, Sword-Wielder was still splattered with blood and covered with cuts and lacerations.
He walked across the room briskly, limping slightly, and twice reached down to retrieve his swords. For the first time, I noticed the two long, equally curved sheaths he wore across his back. The blades slid into them with a hiss, and then he walked back to the door and picked up his backpack. He glanced at me impatiently, then pointed towards the door. I nodded, listening nervously to the approaching sirens. If we didn't get out of here quick, they'd see me... and I didn't know how to change back to what I was before. And, once again, I wasn't really sure I wanted to... I was starting to enjoy this again, now that the immediate threat was over and all, and I was sure he wasn't going to slit my throat and, like, eat me or anything--
Oh really? Was I that sure? I mean, sure, he had turned human, but does that mean he couldn't become a werewolf again? I think not. But--
Oh, come on. Remember what you asked before? You wondered why they wanted to kill you when you were a werewolf just like them. That hairless freak was the messed up one; this werewolf's trying to help you.
But can I be sure of that? I mean, it can't be just a coincidence that they both ended up at my house the very same night... especially this night. And what if he's just trying to lull me into a false sense of security or something?
Why would he do that? You think he couldn't tear you to pieces if he wanted to?
He could have some ulterior motive. Maybe I'm stronger than I think, or--
And even if he is planning on killing you... just what are you going to do about it, exactly? You don't have a lot of choice.
I growled and shook my head angrily. I hated it when I started arguing with myself. That last thought echoed in my mind... Just what are you going to do about it, exactly? You don't have a lot of choice. I sighed wearily, then reluctantly trudged towards the door.
He shook his head slowly. "Human. Change back. They'll see you."
"I," I began, then stopped in surprise. It felt odd, very strange, speaking English in this form. I had a deep, guttural voice that was nothing like my real voice. After a brief pause, I tried to talk in his language... I uttered a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a growl, trying to get my point across. Actually, it was surprisingly easy; instinct was taking over, speaking what needed to be spoken. "I can't," I said. "I don't know how."
He opened his mouth to reply, then paused, mouth hanging agape. The sirens were very close now. No time to explain, it seemed.
I suddenly felt a chilling sensation, like icy breath on the back of my neck. I squirmed uncomfortably, then glanced at a strange shimmering in the air. For a second, it looked like that spot was wavering, like it was above an open fire. In a span of time that probably lasted no more than a second, the form fogged and solidified until it looked like something I could only describe as a matterless void. Then a form appeared in its place, a human form. A man with medium-length, light brown hair and red-brown eyes, probably in his early twenties, stood where the wavering void had been, and a second later three other figures stood next to him. One was a huge black wolf; the other a smaller, cream-and-red wolf. The third was human, a sixteen or seventeen year old boy with short, close-cropped black hair.
More! More coming! Too many, the black wolf growled. We must stay and fight them, Dejuhty will get her out. Now! Go!
The younger boy looked questioningly to the black wolf, who grunted once. Seeming to take that as an affirmative response, he nodded and closed his eyes. His form shifted and shrunk down into a lupine form, also black but very different from the other wolf. He looked smaller, scrawnier, and the fur of his pelt was not long and thick like a wolf's should be; instead, it was smooth and short, like a black whippet or greyhound's coat. He had a sleek, agile build, instead of the raw strength and sheer power of the she-wolf's muscular frame.
He looked at me, his silver eyes glowing like twin moons. I know you don't understand this. They never do, not at first. But... you have to trust us. If you want to make it through the night.
Sword-Wielder reached into his pocket and extracted a small black object. He flipped it open to reveal a small pocket mirror.
He stepped towards me and held up the mirror. "Now. You're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you; but follow my instructions anyway. I know it sounds crazy, but it's important. Okay?"
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I knew that if we didn't hurry the police would get here soon. And I certainly didn't want to be here--not looking like this, anyway--when they arrived.
He held out the mirror. "Take this. Look into it, into your reflection."
I grasped the mirror clumsily with my oversized hands (hands... paws... whatever they were), and stared into it. I tilted it back and forth a few times, until I got it to where it would reflect the most light. I saw my werewolf face for the first time then: like Sword-Wielder and the silver-eyed wolf, it looked more like the black face of an Egyptian jackal-god, but my fur was scruffier and shaggier than either of theirs.
"Look into your reflection's eyes. Think of the mirror as a portal... by gazing into your own reflection, you can find the world's reflection. You--"
I jerked my head up suddenly. World's reflection? What was--
"Look back down," he commanded. "I told you this would sound crazy. Just listen to me. Just look at the mirror, and relax. Try to free your mind of all other concerns. Just concentrate on the mirror."
I did as I was told. I looked at my lupine face and tried to "free my mind." I listened to his words, trying to ignore everything else. Perhaps this was how I was supposed to change back? That didn't make a lot of sense... but... well...
"Just relax. Concentrate. Don't try to understand my words; just listen to them and obey. Look into the mirror, and try to find the other world waiting for you. Try to sense it. If you try to feel it, you'll find it. Don't fight it. It may come as a shock at first, but when you feel it, don't fight it. You..."
His words held less and less meaning, until finally they were no more than background noise. The smaller black wolf faded from the room, much in the same way he and the other wolves had entered; my mind barely registered the information. By now, I could, in fact, sense something... almost like a membrane or... a barrier of some sort... like I was walking through a...
...it felt like I was walking through a thick mass of... of... spider webs? I shuddered involuntarily, and then
...then...
...the world
shifted...
reality ...blinked