Page 31 of Haunted Nightmares
And tapping into them has been freeing, even if only done so to achieve my own warped and depraved goals. But I will keep them dormant no longer, and I will be sure to train up those I leave behind before doing so in order for them to properly educate our kind when I’m gone.
I’m going bloody soft.
Unfortunately, the transfusions have apparently brought back a touch of the humanity my mate instilled in me and while it disgusts me, it also honors her so I’ll let it be for now.
Which is the last wondering thought I have before my transformation is complete and I’m thrust onto hands and knees.
Or, more accurately,crouched on all four paws.
One thing intentionally lost in translation and suppressed by my late sire then turned into silly lore by humans was lycanthropy.
There are no such thing aswolf men,werewolvesorwolf shifters, or any other stupid name for a man becoming a distant cousin of the domestic dog becauseweare lycans. For lack of a better term, anyway. The moon has nothing to do with it, it’s purely powered bymyjakbut since we are the ones who wield it, night is the only time the mythical beasts are seen, hence all of the legend and lore behind them.
Some vampires, mostly Descendants—pre Species War—were able to use their talent to transform into a terrifying creature, one who towered above mortals on two hind legs but took on the features of a feral and bloodthirsty, abnormallyproportioned wolf. And when so many of my followers did so in an attempt to win a war that was never stacked in our favor, Atticus outlawed then erased the ability, along with most that would pose a threat to him and his tyrannical government.
And my lycan form has always been one of the biggest, most threatening—and rather horrifyingly majestic—if I do say so myself, so it wasn’t a bad move on his part.
Even if those things weren’t true, which they are, my senses are even more heightened in this state, so I should be able to identify this creature and defeat him without causing harm to my unfortunately compromised day to day form.
If it comes to that.
Judging by the way this thing is stalking the still oblivious couple in front of it, violence will transpire this night. Especially when I go upright, my hind legs causing me to lean forward some, and catch a whiff of the most foul odor, one I haven’t scented in eons.
Sniffing the air to be sure, I posture myself, taking on a defensive stance as I begin to follow the little slime ball, my eyes trained on it to get a read on my first thought of what it is.
Its body temp is somewhere between humans and my kind, reading as an indigo color to indicate it isn’t hot nor cold blooded, more of a lukewarm normal that will adjust accordingly to their surroundings. The scent emitting from it is like roadkill left out in the peak of summer too long, though. Rotten and humid, earthy garbage and old blood.
The disgusting little hobbit-like thing begins gaining on Iris as she and Nate cross a street, so my strides change to match until the thing before me makes one critical mistake.
It lowers its hood when it closes in on them and the second the bulbous, leathery skin of its face is exposed, I snap.
Running full speed as quietly as I can, I lunge for the worthless bag of cow shite, my front claws digging into itsshoulders just as it swipes its blade through the air. Its mouth opens in a silent scream, jaundice eyes wide as its head turns toward me, arms flailing before it lands an uncoordinated slice to my side.
I clench my jaw, the rows of fangs lining top and bottom biting through my tongue but I don’t make a sound. No, I keep my focus on the disgusting thing before me and stay silent, tearing my right hand from its shoulder before slashing its throat with my claws.
Movement and noise ahead of us briefly catch my eye, and realizing Iris or Nate could see exactly what’s going on is enough for me to drag this thing into the nearest alley while I decide what to do next.
Because killing it doesn’t seem wise at this moment.
But incapacitating it does.
So, I bash its skull into the side of a dumpster as soon as we’re secluded, drop the no longer fighting body on the ground, and force myself to change back as fast as I can.
“Fuck,” I grunt as I stare down at a creature I believed to be extinct. “Feisty little bastard, yeah? Even with a bloody clubfoot?”
Its head lolls to the side but still makes no sound and that has me even more intrigued than I was when I first scented the little shite. Which is exactly why I crouch down to investigate.
Taking its bloated cheeks between the forefinger and thumb of one hand, I squeeze until it’s mouth pops open then quickly pull out my cellphone to try Declan again.
No tongue.
The cretin has no tongue and even with the damage I caused to it’s throat, I can see scarring from what was most likely some sort of crude surgical procedure. One that most likely ensured this thing's silence.
“Where the hell are you?” My friend barks down the line as he finally answers. “I’ve been?—“
“I have a troll.”
Declan pauses abruptly, nothing but his heavy breathing on the other end of the line and just before I lose my goddamn temper, he starts to laugh.
