The A.L.A., or the American Lycanthrope Association, is an underground support group for lycanthropes living in America. The A.L.A. have carefully registered every werewolf they can find; opening support groups, providing counselling and much needed aid for those in denial of their condition and supplying them all with a revolutionary drug called BiteWise.
BiteWise deadens the effects of the transformation, effectively squashing the urge to transform at the full moon, sometimes rendering the victim completely transform free, or ensuring a docile animal form. The effectiveness of the drug is wholly dependant on the potency of the illness these people are infected with.
…
Olivia had been fighting the transformation almost all day. Even BiteWise couldn't quash that itch. She'd been swallowing it down like bile since around one that afternoon. So it was with a wave of relief that she shouldered open the door to her apartment, locked it up tight behind her and hurried to her bedroom, casting her clothes aside as quickly as she could. The light from the plump moon cast long shadows over her bedroom floor as she cast aside her underwear and lunged onto the bed. Her heart was pounding hard in her head, beating faster than was possible for any normal human. Sweat bloomed over her naked skin and her mouth opened in a wild gasp as the first heave of the transformation overtook her.
It started with her hands. She'd learnt not to watch as she felt her nails lengthen into sharp claws and fur spring out over her body. It itched like a poisonous rash, spreading from her spine over her heated flesh. Heart thundering, she felt the sweet pain of her bones cracking into place as jaw and teeth lengthened into muzzle and fangs. Olivia squeezed her eyes tightly shut as her spine lengthened, a tail growing large and fluffy in the light from the city outside.
An animalistic groan escaped her as the final shifting shudders of the change faded. Panting, she collapsed onto the comforter, keeping her eyes firmly closed. The transformation was painful; she'd known that from the first time she'd ever had to endure it. But it hurt more to fight it. When she'd finally understood the inevitable, the transformation had a sweet pain not dissimilar to the pain of twisting a wobbly tooth just a little too far. To fight the change was to feel as though every inch of flesh was twisting.
Olivia opened her eyes and rolled onto her back, arms and legs splayed. Her chest still rose and fell heavily, but her heart was slowing now. The ceiling above flickered as traffic moved outside. Her stomach gurgled with hunger – she hadn't eaten in a while, and transforming always made her hungrier than usual.
As Olivia moved off the bed and rolled her furred shoulders, she caught sight of her reflection in the window. For a werewolf, she didn't look particularly wolfish. She looked more like an overgrown German shepherd with very pointed ears. The pads on her hind paws felt similar to treading on thick wax, except she could feel every bristle of the carpet below. The deep pools of her eyes met her reflection's. The deep brown was the only familiar thing about her. They were bottomless, and full of memories she would rather forget.
With a huff she ducked into her closet and pulled on some loose men's boxers and a huge t-shirt. Her tail poked through the large leg of the boxers, curling slightly out of the bottom. Even with fur, New York could be cold in the winter months. She made her way out of her bedroom and to the kitchen, casually flicking the lights and television on as she passed. CNN news hummed in the background as she opened her fridge door, peering into it to discover one box of Chinese takeaway from two days ago. Reaching in, she cradled it in one curled hand. One blessing of the transformation – she still had opposable thumbs. It had taken her a while to get used to a hand so curled that she couldn't open the fingers properly.
Taking the box out, she peered down the unwieldy muzzle and took a tentative sniff. It smelt fine so she shoved it into the microwave and let it hum and swivel for a couple of minutes. As a lycanthrope she had the luxury of heightened senses in both human and animal forms. Her hearing was so acute she could hear the buzz of the light bulbs and the soft hum of a hoover two floors down. Extreme hearing got irritating sometimes but was extremely useful in her line of work. Her sense of smell and taste was sensitive enough to detect the chemicals of pesticides on salad leaves straight out of the packet. Indeed, her disease had changed her diet dramatically. She preferred meat – red meat done rare.
She caught the microwave just before it binged. The sound hurt her ears, and it was with a certain frenzied delight that she tore open the packet and grabbed a fork. Humming contently, she headed into the sitting room, settling on the sofa and starting to eat.
Olivia let the news wash over her as she ate. It had been a night like this one just over four years ago when she'd been bitten. She'd come home late after finishing up the paperwork after a long, hard case when she'd heart a soft moan in the alley beside her apartment building. Armed and ready, badge in hand, she'd decided to investigate, as was her civic duty.
The beast had attacked her before she could even pull the trigger. Lycanthropes knew how to move in absolute silence. She still had the scar, just above her left knee where the werewolf had torn into her with inch long fangs. It had taken less than five seconds before the creature had loped away, slavering and snarling as it went. Somehow, she got herself to Mercys and was treated for the dog bite. It was only after she'd been getting ready to leave when the representative from the A.L.A. had visited her, and opened her world to lycanthropy.
Olivia had lived through a month of denial before the first full moon. Her first transformation had been traumatising painful. She'd begged the A.L.A. for the Bitewise pill. Unfortunately, her disease was strong, but at least she kept her sanity.
Olivia hummed softly to herself as she ate the last of her takeaway. Her long pink tongue licked at her black lips and she got to her feet, padding back into the kitchen. Olivia really hadn't thought she'd ever meet another werewolf in her lifetime. Therefore, she was surprised when she found out George Huang was a fellow lycanthrope. It was he who had given her the hope of having a normal life.
She felt her tail wag at thought of the FBI agent as she leaned into the freezer. He was so calm, and collected, and kind. She had enormous respect for him; so much so, that she'd even allowed him to see her other form. Of course, she'd also seen his. He was thinner and shorter than her in his lupine form, and more wolf-like.
Olivia was peering at the Ben and Jerry's ice cream, trying to decide if she was going to indulge her only vice, when the doorbell rang. She straightened quickly, panic making her hackles rise. Shit, she thought. Who the hell could be calling on her at this time of the night?