Chapter Thirteen
Shaggy sighed through his nose as the autumn breeze washed over him, leaves crackling in its grasp as they were swept further into the woods on the Grimwood grounds. Wrapped in a wool bathrobe, he tapped his nail on the boulder he'd taken as a seat, trying to will his trepidation away.
To distract himself, he reflected on the last week.
Shaggy was honest enough to admit he wasn't proud of his behavior in recent days. His temper had been short (though, frankly, most would call it average — but it was short for him) and his patience had suffered as well. The girls had been completely understanding, with Winnie herself mentioning it was a symptom of the coming full moon. And with it being his first, it was all the harder.
As he had promised, Shaggy had recounted his vision from Colonel Beauregard, with bordering-on-perfect clarity. Phanty had mentioned that being forced to experience something by a spirit, especially one related by blood, basically carved it into one's memory. Well, he could certainly vouch for that.
The responses to his tale had been mixed, from Elsa's desire to examine the implications about lycanthropy to Tanis's empathy for his ancestor's suffering to Winnie's steadfast belief that this was a good sign for his control issues. Shaggy was on the fence, his innate senses of optimism and healthy fear warring in a way that he had never felt before.
On one hand, Shaggy was beyond grateful that the girls were so understanding. Even Matches seemed less grumpy than usual, sensitive to the suffering of a fellow predator. On the other, he was beginning to feel unworthy of such allowances. He had been raised to be patient, to never raise his hand or voice in anger. And this irrational temper … it was mocking that deep-seated belief.
At this point, on the threshold, he could only hope that things would get better.
Shaggy swallowed thickly as he felt a sense of anticipation rise even higher in his very bones. Even beyond his fraying patience, Shaggy had felt for some time a sense of how close the full moon was. He hadn't noticed until Winnie had mentioned it, but he was always, in one way or another, aware of its phase. At night, he was even aware of the direction — he could point out the moon's location blindfolded.
Shaggy's ear twitched as he heard a twig snap in the treeline. A waft of the breeze brought the familiar scent to Winnie as she emerged into the starlight in her human form, dressed in a similar (if much shorter) robe that did little to hide her curves. Like him, she would be wearing as little as possible underneath — it was the only way to preserve the clothes they owned. Shaggy winced at the memory of Winnie mentioning that she usually rode out the full moon in the buff, but she was willing to forego that for his sake. For which he was grateful.
"Not long now," Winnie said. Shaggy remained silent. After all, what was there to say at this point?
On sheer reflex, Shaggy looked up at the sky to the south east … to find the full moon emerging from the horizon. And at the moment he gazed upon it, felt the kiss of the light on his skin … he felt it.
The Change.
Shaggy grunted as he felt it begin to rise up, the sheer primal energy of the Mother Moon. Distantly, detachedly, he felt his fur thicken, his nails and fangs grow longer, his muscles swell and his bones creak and twist to accommodate such a thing. But none of it mattered!
He was — more than anything — ALIVE!
On the roof of the school, Sibella sat with her arms crossed over her knees. At the moment the disk of the moon emerged from the treeline, she caught the familiar sound of Winnie's transformation. The faint growls overlaying the crackling and popping that would be too quiet for a mortal at this distance, followed soon by twin howls — Winnie's rich high peal and the sound that could only be Shaggy's call.
As the two raced away from the school and into the woods, indistinct blurs even to her inhuman vision, Sibella lay back and sprawled across the roof to enjoy the full moon in her own way. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, even though she had no real need, and was content to simply be for the night.
The line between vampires and werewolves was actually far thinner than most realized. Both were supernatural apex predators, both were tied to the night, both were feared and admired by man and monster alike. It was not unusual for slain werewolves to arise as vampires if improperly buried.
Another link between the two was a fascination with the full moon. True, werewolves clearly had a greater affinity for the event, any blind fool could see that. But nosferatu, as well, derived strength and clarity from the silvery light. Sibella's preliminary studies in magic with her father, himself a knowledgeable mystic, had covered the attributes of the full moon on magic, which helped explain such things. She grinned as she thought over Elsa's explanation for the moon's glow, the fact that moonlight was merely reflected sunlight delightfully ironic.
And it wasn't just vampires and werewolves. The Egyptians recognized the power of the moon, personified in their god Khonshu. Tanis had once spent an entire night telling stories of great and powerful spells ancient priests had woven on the brightest of nights. The bolstering effects even affected spirits and phantoms, most often seen in ghosts becoming more active and agitated on these nights.
All of this passed through Sibella's mind as she considered joining her best friend and their coach on their run. After a few more moments, she decided against it for tonight. This was, after all, Shaggy's first full moon — a sacred time for werewolves akin to a coming-of-age rite. It was not her place to impose on such a thing, nor the next two nights.
And she'd still have eight more full moons to spend with Winnie and Shaggy before the school term ended.
As Sibella continued to breathe deeply, her nails lengthening almost into claws and dark veins protruding at her wrists, inner elbows, and temples, she twitched at the sense of something … dark in the air. She sat up, eyes clenched shut, ears primed, and nostrils flared as she sniffed the air. No other strange sense came to her, so she exhaled and relaxed back to the shingles of the roof to relax. As her mind wandered, she snickered at the thought of her "moon bathing," was similar to mortals "tanning."
Another pair of howls arose into the sky … drowning out the faint groan from the distant forest.
Revolta sneered at the sight in her cracked scrying mirror of the two werewolves sprinting across the grounds of the Grimwood school, thrilled to simply live in the moment. With a hiss, she passed her hand over the glass, dispelling the illusion. The faint use of magic caused her form to flicker at the edges of her fingers, drawing another hiss.
And yet, on this powerful night, she could work great and terrible things.
"Creeper," she commanded, "you better be ready."
"Yes, Revolta," the Grim Creeper whimpered. He drew closer, cringing faintly, before sighing and trying to relax even as he clenched his eye shut. He waited a few seconds and nothing happened. Confused, he peeked his eye open ... and that moment of weakness left him vulnerable. He yelped as Revolta's spirit rammed into him, phasing through his body and taking control.
In this way, using the Grim Creeper as an anchor for her spirit, Revolta could channel far greater power than as a mere disembodied shade. The Creeper groaned as he felt his mistress take hold of his flesh, his mind forced into the role of a mere observer. True, he would serve his mistress in any way she needed, but that didn't make it any less uncomfortable.
Revolta's cackle emanated from the Creeper's throat, his maw twisted into a semblance of her wicked grin. His fore-vines wrapped around her wand, her power flowing into it through him. The twin tips alit with crimson flames that were held directly over the lodestone that stored the power of a thunderstorm.
Pinned to the stone with copper needles were an evening bat and a brown recluse spider, each twitching on the precipice of death. Tongue darting over jagged lips with anticipation, Revolta used the Creeper to tap the lodestone with the wand, the fiery energy washing over the lodestone and seeping into the spidery runes carved all over it. The runes flared with the same glaring light, scarlet electricity flaring up around the stone.
The electricity rose up the stone in a powerful current and took hold of the bat and spider. The copper needles fell away as the two creatures were jerked together, their vulnerable flesh and minds merging. Their bodies wove together in a sickening tapestry, twin cries overlapping and fusing into a horrific shriek.
When the red glow faded, Revolta looked upon the latest in one of her favorite creations. A perfectly malformed spider-bat twitched upon the stones top before its eyes shot open and a cruel rictus grin spread across its muzzle to bear terrifying fangs. Without another sound, the creature shook itself and flew to an adjacent tree, hanging upside down to watch its mistress.
Revolta, within the vessel of the Creeper, reached down and lifted a smaller second cauldron, this one pewter with runes etched in silver, filled with offal and animal parts. With a first spider-bat to work with, she could now create more of them … en masse. She placed the cauldron on the lodestone and chanted, weaving horrific enchantments of nominal creation. The electricity stored in the stone flared up far more powerfully than before and charged the cauldron.
A hail of shrieks, muffled by the spells Revolta had placed over the castle ruins to hide her presence, filled the clearing as more of her terrible minions arose from the muck.
With a pained gasp, Revolta tore herself from the Creeper, her form flickering. A part of her wished she could continue to use him, to harness his body as a permanent anchor, but he was too fundamentally different from what she had been. As her spectral form flickered, slowly returning to indistinction, she cast her gaze at her simmering cauldron and grinned.
That particular problem would be solved soon enough ...
As the sun began to peek over the horizon, its rays found Shaggy laying face down in the mud. His eyelids fluttered and he groaned, slowly working himself up to roll over onto his back. He weakly spat at the mug clinging to his lips before wiping his muzzle with the back of his hand. And then spitting more as that only made it worse.
After a moment to collect himself, he sat up, his ears twitching at the sound of running water. His eyes focused to find himself sitting immersed up to his waist in a small creek, his upper body lying on the bank. A fog seemed to hang over his senses, like a hangover without the headache.
As he scratched at the back of his head, careful of his claws, the fog suddenly lifted. Shaggy jumped as he recalled snippets of the previous night. It was like recalling a fever dream, the memories warped and difficult to pin down. Flashes of sensation — the feeling of wind in his fur, the smells of the forest, the sight of everything bathed in the glow of the Mother Moon — all bound by the same frenzied, mindless energy.
As Shaggy moved to stand from the creek, he yelped as he realized he was stark naked. He sunk back down and carefully thought over this particular situation. In retrospect, this was a probable situation. And he really, really, should have considered solutions. But, as they say, hindsight was twenty-twenty.
And he was faced with the problem of returning to his room without being seen.
Shaggy was just about to call for Scooby and hope to high heaven that the Great Dane heard him when he was surprised by someone clearing their throat. Shaggy yelped and looked over his shoulder to find Miss Grimwood standing a bit further down the creek, a knowing, matronly smile on her face. Like an aunt who had seen too much childish antics to be surprised by anything.
"In a bit of a bind, Coach?" she asked lightly.
"Like, yeah," Shaggy stammered. "Something like that."
"Never fear, Shaggy, I have just the thing." From a satchel hanging room her shoulder, Miss Grimwood produced a towel and a change of clothes from his own dresser. Shaggy smiled and started to rise before remembering that Miss Grimwood was still here, to which she chuckled good-naturedly. "Oh, don't worry, Shaggy. I'm quite old, I've seen it all before."
"Uh, still," Shaggy said. "Could you, like, turn around or something?"
"Very well," she replied and spun on her heel. Shaggy moved quickly. Wrapping the towel around himself and drying his fur before quickly slipping the clothes on. "Better?" Miss Grimwood asked after a few moments.
"Like, yeah," Shaggy chuckled. Leave it to Miss Grimwood to think ahead for the embarrassing mistakes of a novice werewolf. Heck, Winnie had probably- Wait, Winnie! "Uh, Miss Grimwood-?" he began.
"Not to worry, Shaggy," Miss Grimwood interrupted as she began leading the way to the school. "Winnie has been going through this for years and we all know what to expect. Usually I would be the one to bid her good morning and the like, but I thought you would be far too uncomfortable being greeted by any of the girls."
"Can't argue there," Shaggy groused goodnaturedly. "So who's helping out Winnie? Sibella?"
"No. None of the girls," she answered, a bit cryptically.
"The butler?" Shaggy guessed. That was an odd thought, even for him.
"Nope."
Shaggy's eyes widened as he narrowed down the last person it could be and shook his head. "Ah." As they continued their trek back, Shaggy wondered why Miss Grimwood had found Shaggy instead of sending Scooby to do it.
"In case you had questions," Miss Grimwood answered his apparently-verbal inquiry. "Do you?"
"Not really," Shaggy admitted. He'd probably come up with something later, but for now he just needed time to process.
"Oh, well. Lesson learned. I just hope Scooby finds Winnie soon. It is Friday, after all, and we still have lessons."
Scooby tread carefully, nose at the ground as he followed the trail of Winnie's scent. Scooby knew that Great Danes were not scent hounds from Shaggy and Velma's childhood research when he had just been adopted, but whoever had decided that had never met Scooby-Doo. Scooby's nose was a marvel for his breed. Freddie had at least once called it a "super-sleuth" nose — and he wasn't at all wrong.
But it wasn't finding the scent that made this track difficult. Quite the opposite — it was the overpowering strength of the trail. Scooby kept himself from wincing as he followed the trail of Winnie's usual scent, laced with eye-burning doses of excitement, adrenaline, and something that bordered on bloodlust. All together, it was a smell that made his nostrils burn and his eyes water.
But Scooby was nothing if not a faithful dog, and he kept at it.
Finally, Scooby lifted his head to find himself in a clearing within the wooded groves at one end of the (surprisingly expansive) Grimwood property. The trees around the clearing were layered with claw marks, much like those he had found when Shaggy had just turned into a werewolf, and the clearing itself was full of long grass. In the center of the clearing, illuminated by sunbeams that peeked through the trees, lay Winnie.
Unlike most humans, Scooby was utterly unaffected by Winnie's state of undress. Especially since she was in full-human form. As Scooby quietly drew nearer, he cocked his head in surprise at her position and her expression. Rather than the feverish haze he had expected, Winnie was splayed out with boneless, contented relaxation in a depression of tamped-down grass that formed a kind of nest. Her expression was somehow even more relaxed, as if she were utterly at peace with the world.
Deciding to let Winnie remain at peace for a few more minutes, Scooby sat on his haunches and examined her. Despite being a dog, Scooby had some appreciation for human beauty (growing up with an adolescent boy would do that to you if you listened enough — and Scooby was a good enough dog to listen to most of his owner's teenaged ramblings about girls). Objectively, Scooby knew that each of the girls ranged anywhere from adorable, to pretty, to outright gorgeous. And Winnie, in his opinion, fell into the latter category.
Granted, it was more along the lines of a human dog owner appreciating a finely-bred dog, but still.
Glancing up at the color of the sunbeams, Scooby decided it was time and gently nudged Winnie with his nose. Winnie sighed and opened her eyes to focus on Scooby. "Hey there, Scooby," she said with a faint smile before pushing herself into a sitting position. "Did Miss Grimwood send you?"
Scooby snickered and bucked off the messenger bag that had been hanging across his back the whole time. Winnie open it to find a change of clothes and, bless the headmistress, a package of smoked beef. In a flash, she'd torn a piece off with her teeth and was heartily chewing.
Winnie glanced at Scooby to find him sitting and showing off some of the biggest puppy-eyes she had ever seen. She laughed and tore of piece of the meat off, tossing it into the treeline. When Scooby had bolted for the treat, she stuck the rest between her teeth and dressed quickly.
After a few minutes, Winnie and Scooby were on their way back to the school. She glanced up at the horizon, gauging the approximate time, and huffed at the realization that it was almost past breakfast. In a flash, she Changed into her werewolf form and scarfed down her jerky. Like an arrow, she dove to all fours and raced across the grounds with Scooby following close behind.
Mother Moon help her, she wanted some time to talk to the coach about his first full moon.
Tanis delicately picked at her charred bacon and rotten eggs, unable to bring herself to speak. The atmosphere at the breakfast table was tense, that uncomfortable kind of tension that was similar and yet so different from the past week. That had been bad tension, Coach Shaggy's temper waning against his will.
This was just awkward.
Coach Shaggy drummed his claws on the tabletop, eyes unfocused and brow knitted over a full plate! That in itself was a cause for concern. If Shaggy wasn't hungry, there was definitely something wrong.
Tanis let her gaze wander along the table. Sibella seemed as composed and graceful as ever. The vampiress looked up at Tanis's gaze and winked with the faintest of smirks before returning to her meal. Elsa had long-finished and was intent on patching up a stitch on her arm. Tanis briefly smiled at the sight of green silk thread, a suggestion of her own. Phanty was visibly working to keep quiet, and looked like she were ready to explode. And Miss Grimwood was as serene as always, happily munching on her bacon with scum syrup.
The silence was thankfully broken by a the familiar sound of the dining room door flying open, revealing Winnie in all her feral glory. She paused for a split second at the nearly-tangible quiet that settled back onto the room before shaking herself and taking her seat.
"So …" she asked, "how'd everyone sleep?"
Hey, hey, everyone! So, so sorry about the long, long wait. Big changes in life and a dormant muse means little creative juice. Hoping this chapter makes up for it.
*The lore on vampires and werewolves actually is really similar, with a lot of areas making them all but interchangeable. It really was a belief that a werewolf that was buried improperly would rise as a vampire.
*In the original novel "Dracula", Van Helsing mentions that the count was knowledgeable in magic. I figure he'd teach Sibella as well.
*Scooby's excellent sense of smell is canon. Fred called it his "super slueth nose" in "Hassle in the Castle".
*For those of you reading too deep, I am NOT, repeat: NOT, starting up a Scooby/Winnie pairing! Scooby in canon has shown some kind of attraction to human women (Reluctant Werewolf comes to mind) and dogs (Alien Invaders and Legend of the Chupacabra). But like Shaggy, he views the girls as close friends and nothing more.
Thanks for reading, and for the follows and favorites that have come pouring in. You're all awesome!