September 16, 2005

 

Son of a b8$ch! I got fired!

Tried to go into work tonight, and they locked me out.  Some crap about being unreliable and not showing up for a week. Next time I get peckish, I know one lame ex-boss who might end up on the menu.

Now I’ve got to find another job with a weak background check, night shifts, and a penchant for allowing me to push humans around and occasionally maim.

Looks around for nearest Homeland Security Office

Seriously, jobs for the undead aren’t easy to come by.  I know very few who even bother. But I never embraced the whole goth/crypt thing. Dank and smelly is just not my style. And stealing (easy though it is) gets dull after a time. Too solitary for this social butterfly cough.

Anyway, gotta search craigslist. Maybe I’ll put up an ad “Wanted: Night shift. No questions asked. Looking for opportunity to harrass.”

 

September 18, 2005

 

She’s changing. I can see it already. Mona’s effing eyes have already started to react to the full moon.  She’s not even aware of it yet, but I can smell it on her. The wolf is coming out. God help us all.

I’ve got to get her out of my apartment. We’ve got a strict no-pets rule here. And newborn werewolves are notoriously bad on the drapes. Too bad, cuz I was enjoying the Emmy’s. Ellen rocks.

We’re heading to the Aroboretum again. It’s the only place I can think of that’s safe to let her go through the transition to wolf form.

And no, I’m not sure yet if I’ll let her complete the change, or if I’ll snap her neck half way through and let us both out of our misery. I’m not interested in adopting a poorly trained pup. And Jackie’s still AWOL, so she’s not going to stop me.

And me? Why thanks for asking. So far, no lunar anomalies. That’s one in my favor. I won’t mention the cough other problems of late. Effing Morels.

 

September 25, 2005

 

Just have a wee bit of time before dawn and nappy time. Just enough time to explain how unpleasant transfiguration is. It ain’t all Harry Potter and animagus fun. 

I had to get Mona to the relative safety of the Arboretum, fast. It’s the first time she and I  were out together, and I thought I’d have to carry her while I ran. You know, praeternatural speed and crap like that.  Well, it seems our little Mona didn’t escape my evil vampiric clutches after all. She may have a heartbeat, but she ain’t human.

We ran together across the city in a blur that most humans would never notice. Maybe they’d do a doubletake as we sped by, thinking they saw something out of the corner of their eyes. But nothing would register on their pathetically slow gray matter.

By the time we hit the Arboretum, we had enough time to chitchat. Who knew she’d be that fast? Anyway, come to find out, our little Mona has been having cravings as well. And it ain’t for hotdogs. I gotta tell ya, I’ve never seen a half-human half-vampire fledgling before, and I told her so. I don’t know if she should drink more of my blood, more human blood, or just resist the whole thing. She’s somewhere in supernatural limbo-land.

It was nearing midnight when the wolfie changes started. Her eyes reflected her own fear, but she held it in check, somehow. I know, you’re all thinking - There’s more to Mona than meets the eye.  Guess again.  More likely she hadn’t a clue what she was about to go through.

And neither had I. I mean it’s not like I watched the first change of any wolf-pup before. I’m more for the neck snappage while they’re still weak.  Could that be why I have so few werewolf buddies?  nah...

The transformation was ugly, just plain ugly. And you know it’s got to hurt like hell. But to make matters just that much worse for our little Mona, she had my blood inside her, fighting the change. Or, to make that clearer, the vamp fast healing side of her fought against the wolf side that was trying to mangle her body from biped to quadraped in the span of a few minutes. Now that did hurt. The screaming, you see.  Dead giveaway of unbearable pain.

Vamps feel pain, by the way. We most certainly do. But we don’t show it. It’s a butch thing. Also, the knowledge that we’ll heal from nearly anything helps.  And that rapid healing was working against Mona. I must have watched three separate attempts by the wolf to munge her face into a muzzle while the vamp reshaped it back into its human form. Ever watch one of those videos where they use claymation people and then mash them up?  Yeah, it looked like that.

Fascinating.

Which is probably what saved her life, or half-life?  Whatever. If I hadn’t been so fascinated by what was going wrong with Mona’s transformation, I probably would have remembered that I’d meant to kill her. I mean, stuck in the woods at night with a new-born wolf-pup. Easy-sneazy to end it all and get back to my life.  After all, I still have a job to look for.

Of course, the trans-dimensional disappearance helped, too.  Pretty much at the high point of the transformation, Mona must have had enough sanity left to realize what was going on, as she watched her hands turn to paws. Anyway, I’m guessing abject fear triggered it. But one minute she’s screaming and thrashing in the undergrowth, the next she’s gone.  Just plain gone.

I looked at the now empty ground for who knows how long before I realized what had happened. Or guessed what had happened.  Or hoped maybe? That I wasn’t just hallucinating this whole nightmare of a night. Anyway, since she’s half morel, it only makes sense that she might have inherited certain dimension-hopping skills from her mother. Why she chose now to test those skills and not some other more convenient time, like when she wasn’t midway between vamp/human/morel to lord-knows-what wolf mix remains a mystery. I’m guessing abject fear, but who knows.

She popped back about a minute later, unconscious. Oh, and fuzzy and muzzled. Sort of.  Seems like her little visit to who knows where stablized her transformation.

At least she wasn’t fighting both halves of herself anymore.  Of course the lack of consciousness was a bit of a bummer for her. Left her vulnerable for sure, and after all the escapades of the night, I’d finally remembered why I brought her here.

Neck snappage and all.

I walked over to her prone body and prodded it with my sneaker a few times. She wasn’t moving. In fact, if I listened, I could hear her light snoring. Bad time for a nap, Mona. Baad time. I took a moment to check her out first.

No, not THAT kind of check her out.  Scientific curiosity really. She wasn’t in human form, and she wasn’t in full wolf form.  Regardless of what Hollywood might say, a werewolf is mostly indistinguishable from a real wolf when they change.  Oh they’re bigger and a whole lot meaner. But otherwise the same. That Kelly Armstrong lady had it right, mostly in “Bitten”.  Except for the no female werewolves bit.  There are plenty of those. And a werewolf bitch is just that, a bitch, expecially when she’s in heat.

But I digress. Back to Mona. or Fuzzy Mona right then.  She managed to keep half her clothes on, but they were shredded in places. Her jaw was elongated and what few teeth shown were definitely canines in the real canine sense. I wouldn’t want that locked on my arm. Her arms and legs were covered in a thick black fur, but she had no tail that I could see, and while awkward, she looked to still be bipedal.  Not that I’d know for sure, as she was still with the snoring. And I didn’t intend to let this dimension-hopping, praeternatural experiment live any longer.  Game over babe. Times up. 

I lifted her up off the ground. Thought maybe I’d snap the spine over my knee this time. You know, just to be different. After thousands of deaths, you’ve got to mix it up a little. Alleviate the boredom. Anyway, I had her in my arms. Guess I was too wrapped up in my own little world to pay attention to my surroundings.

“Bring her back to the house.”

Son of a bitch! Dissembodied voices just urk me. Okay, maybe this one wasn’t disembodied, but it felt like it.  I turned around to the source.

Jackie.

Yep, she’s back. I took in my surroundings and realized we weren’t more than a hundred yards from her safe house. So much for the deep, dark woods. I bet half of Jamaica Plain heard Mona’s screaming. Good thing it was Jamaica Plain, or else someone might have called the cops.

Jackied turned and walked back toward her house. I looked down on the thing I was supposed to kill, I wanted to kill. And I looked back up at Jackie’s retreating form.

And I followed her.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

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