He opened the hatch, after which he turned on the flashlight and headed down. The first thing the light caught was... actually he had no idea what it was, until he looked closer.
Ginger, who was allready down, remarked: "A burnt matrass, with anything sharp. Looks like she made this a sacrificial chamber."
"Obviously." Stan agreed, as he smelled something that confirmed Ginger's thoughts.
Next to the make-shift spikes, there was a dead body, though the light only caught it's head, which was that of a wolf.
"Wicked!" Ginger sounded cheerful.
"That's weird!" Stan couldn't help noticing something.
"Yeah!" Ginger agreed, "How did she manage to get a wolf in here?"
"Not that!" Stan corrected her, "Haven't you noticed we stumbled in on wolves ever since we began looking for your sister?"
Ginger didn't answer, but she didn't seem to really care either. Not too far away, Stan found another dead body. Not only was this one human, and almost wasted, it was torn apart, like it was attacked by some animal or other.
"Fucking twisted!" Ginger remarked.
"You can say that again!" Stan agreed, until he had taken a closer look, "Nope! Not that twisted!"
"What do you mean?" Ginger asked.
Stan explained: "This one got bashed in the skull before this happened. It might not've been aware something… ate it.
Ginger sounded disappointed: "You always knew how to ruin the fun, didn't you?"
Stan did not reply to that. He looked around a bit more.
There were lots of dead bodies in this basement. They were all be human, if it wasn't for that wolf. They all seemed to have died quite the same way, torn apart. It made Stan wonder what the spikes were for. The more he looked into it, the less things made sence. Suddenly his eyes were fixed on something which seemed to attract some flies.
"Quite fresh, wouldn't you say?" Ginger noticed.
A fresh dead body, only recently torn apart. Stan suddenly understood what they mean when they say 'cold shivers ran down his spine' in ghost stories. Whatever did this, might still be here. He swung around with his flashlight, actually hoping he won't see it, whatever it may be. He found whatever it is you're supposed to find in a basement: some boxes, some wine and gin bottles, a fur coat, a dusty table... A fur coat? What would that be doing downstairs, Stan wondered to himself. He pointed the light to the 'coat'. If 60 of a man is water, Stan would be dehydrated from the sweating, once he noticed it stared at him, and had teeth. It jumped at him. In his fright, Stan dug, or rather fell down, dropping the flashlight somewhere. It didn't enlighten the room, but the thing's eyes were almost glowing in the dark. Stan tried to get up, to run to the stairs, but relised quick enough that that's out of the question. The beast jumped in front of him. It was about to attack him once more. Stan did some quick thinking: he tried to use anything he could find in the basement to throw at the beast, hoping to wear it off a little. It moved away a little, but just about enough, so Stan could run to the stairs. But this attempt was a failure, as it managed to jump on him. All Stan could do was using his hands, in reflex, to keep the beast's mouth away from eating him. The beast, in the meantime, thought this to be a challange, in which it remained cool, and see how long Stan could hold out. Stan, on the other hand, wasn't sure if he could hold at all. The beast's mouth was more teeth rather than flesh, and it's drool made it quite slippery. The flashlight enlighted only one side of the ceature, making it's dark side scarier to watch. His yellowish eyes were too yellow, even for a wolf. This was something he didn't want to be the last thing he'd ever see. Suddenly, Stan noticed something about this creature. Stan couldn't be sure, for it may have been the fright, but he was sure there was something familiar about it's eyes.
"Brigitte?" Stan couldn't help himself to say this.
Once the beast heard the name, it seemed to be losing grip. It started shifting his head from one side to another. It was confused. It let go of Stan, and crawled to a dark spot at the wall. Stan couldn't help noticing it seemed to be shrinking.
While trying to get up, and catching his breath again, Stan still tried to figure this out: "No... No! That's not... possible!"
That's when everything began making sence: the picture, the addiction to wolfsbane, the wolf on the handmade comic book, the dead wolf,...
This is when Ginger had changed look again: she looked like the dead bodies which lay around here, actually holding her own insides.
"You did it!" Ginger sounded angry, though pleased, "You found my killer! You can't imagine..."
"SHUT UP!!!" Stan shouted at her.
Stan took the flashlight, and pointed it to the wall where the creature had crawled. The creature wasn't there! Instead, there was a girl with black hair, wearing barely anything, who seemed to be crying. Stan didn't see her face, yet he was sure it was Brigitte. He tried to reach for her. He barely even touched her, or she turned around and growled at him. She looked like she was still changing into the creature. Nevertheless, Stan was convinced about who this was.
"Brigitte!" he began, "Brigitte, relax! It's me! It's Stan!"
The name seemed to reach her. She gazed at him for a moment, without relising she's bare. But it didn't seem to matter to her much, for she knew who this was: "Stan...? Is it really..."
It didn't take long before she tried to find comfort on his shoulder.