- In Sheep's Clothing - A werewolf story -

Ben stood at the end of the drive, too nervous to go any further. Having somehow plucked up the courage to tell Lucinda about Connor, despite his threats, he knew he had to escape. The werewolf would kill him for telling her. The moment he got home, he searched the internet for some form of refuge, thinking it futile.

For an hour of flicking through search engines, it was just that. However, just when he was about to give up, he had found a site that hosted conspiracy theorists. On the forums, an article from one man advertised a safe house, where people could go to be protected if they were being hunted by vampires or werewolves.

The man claimed to be a werewolf hunter, and his wife a vampire slayer. A month ago, Ben would have laughed at them and that would be all the thought he gave it, but now he knew better. Still, he knew there were people out there in the madness of the modern world who claimed to be vampires, werewolves and slayers who were really just bored children.

The house, at least, seemed to live up to the claim. It was built of stone and within the grounds of an exceedingly scary churchyard. Steeling himself for what could be a big disappointment, he set off down the drive.

* * * * *

“So why were you going through he estate anyway?” Connor asked Lucinda the next time they saw each other.

“I’d just found out about your parents,” Lucinda told him warily, afraid to upset him, but Connor didn’t even react. “I found the article on the BBC website. When I read it I was worried that you were… well…”

“Mad,” Connor sighed.

“I was going to make sure you were alright, but when I called you, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried, so I decided I’d go to our house and make sure you were alright…”

“You were worried?” Connor asked, surprised. No one had ever really worried about him since his parents died. The hospital claimed to, of course, but all they really wanted was to make him into another positive statistic. “How did you find the article, anyway?”

“Oh, yeah, I need to talk to you about that,” Lucinda scowled. “Ben, the one in our sports class, told me you were a werewolf. I don’t know how he found out…”

“He’s known for a while actually,” Connor said very quietly. “I told him he was to tell no-one.”

“As far as I know he’s only told me,” Lucinda hurriedly assured him. “And I’m not telling anyone else. Your secret’s safe.”

Connor growled softly but didn’t respond.

* * * * *

Ben sipped at his cup of coffee nervously as he looked around the room. Well, as far as he could tell he was safe from werewolves. Whether he was safe from the slayers was another matter.

Every wall of every room in the house was covered with weaponry and trinkets from slaying. Mistletoe and garlic wreaths were hung on every door on both sides, one to ward off werewolves, the other to stop vampires. Stakes, guns filled with silver bullets, vials of holy water and all manner of other weapons were hung in every room in case the creatures did manage to get in.

As if that was not terrifying enough, pictures were hung on the walls of the two slayers with carcasses of werewolves hung over their shoulders like fur coats, and of vampires with stakes driven through their hearts.

The slayers themselves were armed to the teeth with weapons, and protected a surprising number of people in their home, all of whom had been targeted. Few, however, were fleeing werewolves, probably because they were easier to kill than vampires, only having access to their powers at the full moon.

“So, who and what are you fleeing from?” the vampire slaying lady asked Connor, who looked up from his cup of coffee nervously only to look straight back down again, too afraid to raise his eyes. The brief glimpse he had caught of the woman was enough. She looked athletic and powerful, and was covered in belts and straps on top of her normal clothes that had weapons hung on them.

“A werewolf…” he said, meaning to talk normally but his voice came out as more of a squeak than anything else.

“We need to know everything,” the woman insisted. Ben gulped, and started to slowly tell his story. As soon as he got into it the words came pouring out in a torrent. When he was done, the woman nodded.

“You were very lucky,” she told him after a while. “Most werewolves would have killed you then and there.”

“He will kill me now,” Ben muttered.

“Yes, probably, if he can. He’s not the greatest priority right now though,” the woman told him. “Next full moon we should hunt for your puppy wolf. For now you can stay here if you like.”

“You can’t leave him free for another month!” Ben shouted, terror making him forget his fear.

“Ben, I am currently trying o defeat a vampire who claims to be Dracula himself, a werewolf that has turned cannibalistic in human form, and several other murderers,” the slayer explained. “Your enemy has only threatened you.”

“How am I supposed to defend myself until then?” Ben asked, glancing at the weapons.

“The werewolf can probably do nothing until the full moon…” the woman said with a smile. “But I’ll give you what I can.”

* * * * *

That night the moon shone brightly in the sky – but it was not full. Connor and Lucinda were laughing and joking together on the way back to Lucinda’s house, where they were supposed to be working on a new project. This one was all about modern disbelief of the superstitions they studied before, and they knew they could make it up on the spot if they had to, it was so easy.

“So what’s true and what’s not true?” Lucinda asked, referring to the stories about werewolves.

“Well, we lose our minds to the wolf at the full moon, that you’ve seen,” Connor began with a smile, waving her towards a bench where they could sit down while he thought. “The rest of the time, we can control ourselves, but the wolf’s mind is always there, trying to break through. If it does, that’s where the modern werewolf legends come from. We can all take on a partial wolf form, similar to the ones you see in films, whenever we want.”

“So if you wanted you could transform now…?” Lucinda asked, fascinated.

“I could, but it wouldn’t be a good idea,” Connor laughed, glancing at the crowded streets. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want, but,” Lucinda said nervously, aware that her next question could be taken very badly. “What would kill you then?”

“Silver bullets work, but it’s not like the films, where the wolf gets hit in the arm and dies,” Connor explained. “To be fatal the bullet would have to hit a vital organ, something that would kill a human, like being shot through the heart. Pretty much anything silver will kill us, but not if we’re just touching it or anything. Mistletoe won’t kill us, but it stings horribly, like a really strong nettle, so we avoid it. Other than that, decapitation or burning of our remains will kill us, as will starvation.”

“Lucky,” Lucinda chuckled. “So you can’t get sick then?”

“Hardly lucky. I could get ill, very ill, with things that would kill a mortal, and suffer forever if I don’t recover.” Connor muttered. “I will never die of old age, but I will age until I’m a frail old man in human form. Most werewolves never choose to change back from their werewolf forms when they become too old to care for themselves, and eventually the wolf mind takes over.”

“What then?”

“Eventually the human part of the mind is lost completely, leaving only a wolf,” Connor sighed, “though the wolf has none of the werewolf traits.”

Lucinda, sensing the mood, fell silent. Connor was grateful that she did, though he would not tell her why. Heading home, they didn’t talk until Lucinda heard a noise.

“Connor, is that you?” she asked nervously, stopping. Connor turned around to face her, frowning. It was a while before he heard it.

Ahead of them, a shadow on the wall was moving towards them. Further ahead and around the corner, the creature casting the shadow was growling deeply.

“Run.” Connor whispered.