Reformation
(A Short Story)
Ruby sobbed gently as she stared into the vacant eyes of the dead hunter. She huddled with her knees drawn close under her grandmother’s old desk, fixated on the soft gleam of moisture clinging to his eyes like the dying creek before a great drought. Blood pooled around his broken body and trickled from his open mouth. He clutched a sharpened, silver cross raised above his head, poised as if still trying to slay the wolf now feasting on her kin. The hunter, Peder, gave off a sickly, pungent scent of iron and dried sweat, a smell Laurie hoped would prevent the beast from noticing her. Only his ignorance spared her. Drowning in the hunter’s stare, Ruby felt a dull desire to give in to the vast darkness mirrored in his eyes. It would be so much simpler not to fight, to just let the wolf know she was there and willing to end this terrible night. Laurie was good at giving up; one might even argue she had a talent for letting herself be bullied and tormented by others. She felt rubbery and useless cowering in the dark.
Sinking uncontrollably, it took bones snapping to finally shake her from the malaise. The werewolf—she was still amazed they really existed–crunched his way to softer, more succulent organs in the other room, breathing heavily in exertion. No matter what, Laurie did not want that. She did not want to a feast, to have her body sucked dry and her bones crunching under the pressure of some massive jaws. A low moan accompanied the chewing indicating someone might still be alive other than herself; Laurie shuddered at the unthinkable concept of being eaten alive—God, she did not want this. This tormenting thought infused her with an urgent need not just a want to survive. For the first time since she dove under the desk, Laurie tried to center herself and focused on the world around her. She needed to escape and maybe, just maybe find her sister.
Laurie dried her tears on her already damp t-shirt and took steady but silent deep breathes; she wove together her somewhat fractured sanity and surveyed her surroundings. First and foremost, she required a knife or bat, any item fit for defense. She had taken refuge in her grandmother’s bedroom when the beast burst into the single-wide trailer. The room held little in the way of traditional weapons, but Laurie hoped to scavenge a few knick knacks suitable to saving her life. Laurie had been in the middle of packing and tried to remember what, if anything, the boxes might offer for survival. Silently, she stretched out her legs and maneuvered around a desk chair. She turned left where a box rested unopened and pried the flaps loose slowly in order to avoid signaling the wolf. Rather than alerting the beast with a flashlight, Laurie put her hand into the box blindly to feel for the contents. Wool and sheets of knitting patterns greeted Laurie as she fished around in the dark. The box contained her grandmother’s last project, an afghan for Laurie’s 23rd birthday. Within, Laurie located two of her grandmother’s knitting needles. Though dull and thin, the metal rods could still pierce flesh if one were to exert enough pressure. She stuck the needles into her ponytail for lack of a better receptacle.
The rest of the contents, rolls and rolls of yarn, deemed useless, Laurie moved on to the one just behind it. Unfortunately, this involved sliding box one to the left and pulling the other forward. While shoving the first, she must have jolted something in the dark causing a small crash to occur deeper in the room. Suddenly, the crunching halted and the world went unearthly still. Heart racing, Laurie froze with her clammy hands clutching the second box as she listened for the inevitable scraping of claws charging through the kitchen and down the hall to her tiny haven.
She imagined the wolf, nose poised in the air sniffing for a hint of the perpetrator, his body tense and ready to rush anything and anyone. An ocean of blood rushed through her head, roaring intensely in her ears and blinding her in waves of panic. She tried not to cry as she contemplated what it would feel like to have her skin sliced open, her insides consumed warmly as she bled to death. The terrible fear seemed to last for decades, centuries, forever before Laurie heard the telltale sounds of a wolf returning to his meal. She calmed slowly and refocused her mind towards her escape.
Laurie thought of scouring the remaining boxes but fleeing was paramount. The room possessed three small windows; however, various boxes cluttered those furthest from the open door and Riordan. Likely, the wolf would hear her and slash her before she had time to jump from the room. He had moved too fast, knocking down Jimmy and Alex before they had time to raise their rifles against him. Within seconds of his arrival, the wolf barreled through the door, threw the boys against the opposing wall, and smacked Megan into the faux fireplace; Riordan barely pushed Laurie into the bedroom before the beast grabbed him by a leg and threw him into the kitchen island. Laurie flung herself under the desk as Riordan’s body crashed onto the bedroom floor and began seeping blood. No, Laurie had no chance against that monster’s speed. She was going to have to be smarter. She almost discounted the window on the other side of Riordan when she heard/felt the slam of a body against the wall behind her followed by the growling of the wolf. In fear, Laurie mentally shrunk herself to avoid detection until she noticed the whimpering of who was alive minutes ago abruptly stopped. She suddenly realized her terror, her subservience, would not save her. She could not hold on to any hope of being spared simply because she was weak. She held her breath for ages until she finally heard the sickening sound of something being dragged from the room and the wet noises of the wolf returning to his feast.
Suddenly, the solitary window across the vast trenches of light and the corpse seemed much more inviting. Already opened, Laurie only had to push out the screen and jump to safety. Getting out of the trailer would not be enough; Laurie needed a means of escaping the property as well as the home. She lacked keys to Jimmy’s truck and the knowledge on how to hot-wire the pick-up. Looking at the crushed, seeping body of Riordan, the self-proclaimed werewolf hunter, Laurie remembered him pulling up in a jeep before knocking emphatically on the front the door. Hope flickered, charged, and changed her though she needed to search him the body being covered in sticky blood and torn, exposed tissue.
Inching closer to the hunter, Laurie reached out to his front, right jean pocket in hopes of finding his keys. Acutely aware her arms now extended into the path of kitchen light and were covered in Riordan’s gore, Laurie forced herself to move quickly through his clothing. After the right pocket failed to deliver what Laurie sought, she extended her arm to his left leg. Bent at an unnatural angle, bone, flesh, and shredded muscle escaped through a tear in his pants just below the knee. She held no desire to check his pants, to be near the gaping wounds. It served too much of a testament to what would likely become her fate. She started to hate the blood then, not because it scared her or because it made her sick. She hated its inevitability, how helpless it made her feel. Pushing through her revulsion, Laurie forced her hand towards the leg and located the keys. Wrapping her whole hand around them, Laurie pulled the keys quickly but carefully from Riordan’s jeans. Stuffing them into her own Mudds, Laurie turned back to the silver cross in his left hand. The needles offered some defense, but this cross had been sharpened into a seemingly deadly weapon. If the wolf found her, Laurie doubted the knitting needles would suffice to save her—this cross, on the other hand, had more bite.
Glancing towards the kitchen, Laurie listened carefully for the wolf. Still consumed with his meal, he paid no attention to Riordan or the seemingly uninhabited bedroom. Laurie pried the cross from the hunter’s cooling grip and slowly stood up from her kneeling position though not carefully enough as her right knee chose that moment to crack, loudly.
Instinctually, Laurie again froze and silently begged that the beast had not heard her traitorous joint. She clamped a free hand across her mouth, stifling a cry and more sweat drained from her already weeping pores. The wolf growled and walked into the kitchen. From the crack between the door and frame, Laurie chanced a look at the beast and shakily watched its enormous head cock in concentration. The wolf stalked closer to the doorway, claw after claw scratching the wooden floor, each strike like a nail of panic piercing Laurie’s resolve. Breathe after breathe, Laurie miraculously kept still by drawing on a will she had not realized she possessed. The beast paused less than three feet from her—she saw his thick, coarse fur muddied by blood and flesh through the crack of door. He raised his long muzzle and inhaled deeply. Sweat continued to flood Laurie’s temple and flowed down her back and belly. She had never been so terrified in her life, but she refused to offer any sign of her existence. If he could not sense her, she would be damned if she would give herself away.
Flashes of ire ate at Laurie’s fear. Amidst her terror, a foreign emotion bloomed or maybe surfaced within Laurie: anger. A rich and vastly cold anger. Her senses sharpened, her thinking cleared, and her skin chilled. This outrage garnered by the beast’s cruelty and evil whittled away at her panic until it became a small, manageable pulse of emotion. The wolf could slice through her body at any moment with his yellow teeth, but she felt like steel being forged by some inner furnace. Burning and cooling, reforming into something stronger and so much more lethal.
Despite the burgeoning strength, Laurie was still cornered by the wolf. She clutched the weaponized cross and quietly lowered her other hand to her side. For once in her pathetic life, Laurie resolved to meet her enemy with dignity. With a deep breath, Laurie was about to step out to face the wolf when something grabbed her ankle loosely. Gaze immediately dropped to the floor, shock rippled throughout Laurie as Riordan focused his eyes and groaned painfully.
Oh God, Laurie thought in horror, the hunter was still alive. He had not moved nor seemed to breathe since crashing into the room—with all of her soul, Laurie believed him dead. She started to bend towards him and help him from the ground; however, Riordan stalled her by a shake of his head. The hunter looked directly at her and offered an almost unperceivable nod. He knew; he knew she was there and was not going to give her up or rather not let her give herself up for him. Laurie could not move, could not think.
Riordan released her ankle and growled at the wolf. The monster halted his intake of breath for a heavy, dark moment. His body froze with a palpable anger that smothered the room; Laurie choked silently and had to forcibly swallow to resume breathing. Joints snapping and muscles clenching, the beast pulled itself back, eyes glaring into the doomed face of the hunter. Almost shocked into immobility, the wolf caused the world to wait, to surrender to its fury. He no longer cared if someone or something else lived other than Riordan which simultaneously relieved and horrified Laurie. She clung to safety but at what cost.
Sealing all of their fates, Riordan spat the blood pooling in his throat and cursed the wolf.
“Come on, you monster. Take me like I took out your mate.”
The wolf paused only a moment longer before clamping its sharp teeth around the hunter’s head. Laurie clenched her lips in order to stifle a moan as the monster pierced Riordan’s cheeks and left eye with his ever masticating jaws and bone, blood, and sinew fell from its reeking maw. Riordan’s remaining iris rested on Laurie; this time he fixated on her as he slipped away into nothingness. His gaze served as a final exchange and testament to his sacrifice before too being swallowed by the wolf, its tissue eventually caught in the fur below the monster’s lower jaw. The carnage took only moments, but IF Laurie lived, she knew she would never be able to forget the butchery and evil she witnessed that night. Satisfied with his carnage, the wolf returned to living room and the rest of his kills.
Once gone, Laurie wasted no more time. She stepped over the mutilated body and pushed the screen from the window, dove unto the soft grass, and rolled to avoid injury. The contrast between the calm night and the stark horror of the home slightly disrupted Laurie’s focus. The dark of night had never looked so inviting, so comforting in the shadows of safety it provided when prior to the last hour or so, night had always seemed daunting and dangerous. Still, Laurie knew the visage of calm was that, only an illusion. Soon reality with heavy fur and sharp teeth would barrel through this veil and slaughter the mirage. With no second thoughts, Laurie numbly ran barefoot to the jeep parked behind the truck only a few meters from the rusted mobile home, gravel cutting into the soft under flesh or her feet with every step.
So intent on her objective, Laurie almost missed the soft cries of her sister. Stopping mid run, Laurie skidded painfully on the gray rocks but turned dutifully to her sobbing sister slumped by the front left tire of Jimmy’s F-150. Laurie quickly crouched down by Megan and checked the extent of her injuries. Superficial wounds scratched Megan’s delicate face and small abrasions discolored her palms and knees. Otherwise, Megan was untouched. How Megan had gotten outside was beyond Laurie. The last she had seen of her, the older sister lay unconscious across the fireplace cover. Megan must have darted through the door and hid by the pick-up while the beast fed on either the boys or Riordan. Dark blood plastered Megan’s halter to her chest yet it clearly had not come from her own wounds. No one had been spared inside once the monster had a hold of them. This made Megan’s condition a mystery and a nagging concern for Laurie. Disturbed even more so than when she remained in the trailer, Laurie pushed aside her worries and focused on getting her sister to safety.
“Meggie,” she pleaded, “I’m so glad you’re alive. Come on, we gotta move. That thing is inside still. Come on.” After tucking the cross into the back of her jeans, Laurie tugged on her sister’s arm in an attempt to get her to stand, but Megan’s shock made her difficult to budge. She kept weeping for her boyfriend, whispering, “Jimmy” over and over. Laurie always disliked the selfish drunkard James “Jimmy” Fortner, but in this moment, she hated him like she despised the carnage of Riordan’s body. She hated how he siphoned all of Megan’s love, sense and now likely her life. Laurie had not realized how much she darkness she had within her and how much she wanted to keep feeling this rage boiling under her skin. It warmed her, fed her, strengthened her. As much as Laurie despised Jimmy, she loved Megan. She wanted to burn with her fury, but Megan needed her more. Refusing to give up on her clearly overwhelmed sibling, Laurie finally jerked her sister harder into a standing position.
“Megan, I’m going to get you out of here. We need to go, NOW!” Laurie emphasized though in barely a whisper. Once standing, however, Megan had other plans. Crying almost hysterically, she screamed her dead boyfriend’s name and rushed towards the trailer.
“Meggie, no, he’ll hear you!” Laurie cried out unable to remain silent. She grabbed Megan’s arm and began pulling her towards the jeep, a war between their wants. So driven by her need to find Jimmy, Megan pushed her sister forcefully to the ground between the vehicles. About to rise to her feet and run after Megan, Laurie was stalled by the unmistakable howl of the wolf coming from the exposed trailer door, the gravel rolled under his massive paws. Almost instinctively, Laurie tucked her feet behind the truck and gestured emphatically for her sister to join her. Mewling in fear, Megan stiffened before the great beast almost as in sacrifice to the creature. Laurie held no illusions that Megan would give her life for Laurie; she loved her boyfriend far and beyond any meager feelings she held for her sister. It was Megan who took Laurie’s inheritance from their grandmother and used it to purchase new rims for Jimmy’s truck. It was Megan who told Laurie to move out before the end of the month because she and Jimmy needed their “space.” No, this Megan who stood immobile before the beast wanted nothing more than to join her lover even if in death. Yet, Megan was Laurie’s sister and she couldn’t abandon the terrified girl just because of the distance between them. Laurie whispered one more please and extended her hand to Megan. Before she could get her older sister to join her, however, the wolf lunged at Megan and dragged her feet first into the trailer. Megan, like a lost doll, submitted to being carried away without protest and was swallowed up by the house within seconds.
Laurie stifled her gasp and took only a few breaths before moving towards the woods grazing the vehicles and ducked behind the jeep. She hid herself just as the wolf returned to search the vehicles. He moved between the Ford and Jeep where Laurie had just vacated and scanned the vicinity. Laurie was sure he had finally noticed her and braced herself for the battle coming. Megan took that opportunity to scream out Jimmy’s name, most likely after discovering his half-eaten body in the den. The wolf turned to her voice and jogged back inside the house. Sighing to herself, Laurie finished circling the jeep and climbed the driver’s side door. As quietly as possible, she closed the door and put the key in the ignition.
With one last look at the trailer, Laurie turned the key, slammed on the gas, and peeled out down the gravel road to the country highway. The wolf furiously surged from the trailer and took chase, his long legs pounding behind her. She could see his large, red eyes in the mirror, a reflection of the anger fueling the wolf and now infesting her own soul. Wanting to look away, Laurie forced herself to know her enemy. He stood about at about five feet high on four legs and lengthened to seven. Blood dripped from him as he flew after the jeep. His gaping mouth displayed what Laurie thought of as rows and rows of dirty and heavy teeth. Despite his horrifying appearance, it was the malice he seemed to just give up that truly made him a creature of nightmares. He liked killing, he thirsted for it.
Laurie pushed down her fear and encouraged her anger; it helped her focus better on escape. Though the wolf was losing ground, Laurie swore she could feel his fury increasingly smother her as she sped away. Taking the sharp right onto the paved road and gunning the gas, Laurie almost careened into a ditch. She pulled the wheel sharply to right the weaving vehicle. The wolf howled then, shaking and pissed. Laurie imagined the monster loathed the thought of some hapless country girl outsmarting him. Whatever emotions boiled under his flesh propelled him to continue the chase at least until she reached paved road and increased her speed. He followed her to the end of the lane and then dove into the woods bordering the highway.
Not yet relieved, Laurie felt consumed by doubt and concern. She worried about where the wolf disappeared to, what would become of Megan, and became more frustrated at the injustice of it all. She had about 15 minutes of speeding through the dense woods before reaching town, plans and intentions tumultuously burning in her mind. She wondered if she had time to get help for Megan or if anyone would even believe her. She barely believed her own eyes and she had been living through this nightmare for long enough to know it was not just a bad dream. Would they think she just flipped and murdered her sister’s loser boyfriend? And worse, she wondered who was she for running out on her kin?
As Laurie internally waged war with herself, the wolf flew from the cover of the wood and slammed into the right side of the jeep. The vehicle swerved, briefly going up on two wheels before slamming into the road. Jarred, Laurie clenched her teeth and righted the jeep once more. The wolf growled deeply and darted back in the woods most likely in an attempt to cut her off once more. The road, like most mountain passes, curved endlessly—a path which could only be shortened by one cutting through the dense woods and climbing up the steep cliffs and clearly one the wolf felt worth the trouble to scale. Though she expected an immediate swelling of fear, her new anger consumed Laurie. Why couldn’t the beast just stop? What more did he want? This wolf had torn her sister from her and now seemed intent on killing Laurie, too. She wondered at how many people’s lives this monster had destroyed. Cold, clearing fury reformed Laurie and her plans. She was tired of running, of being chased and forced to bend to others’ will. She smacked her fist into the wheel in frustration, her mind and trepidation snapping under the weight of fury. The sheriff would have been too late to save Megan. Laurie knew then the only chance to end the terror was to kill the beast herself. The Laurie of twenty minutes ago would have cowed under the weight of this realization. Other Laurie swallowed the panic, forging it into her soul and resolve. Weak Laurie would have cried and cried beyond caring until the wolf or her fear consumed her. New Laurie rummaged through her mind for a means to destroy the beast howling in the darkness.
When the wolf launched himself again at the Jeep about a mile farther down the road, Laurie was ready. She caught a glimpse of the creature moments before it hit the Jeep and sharply turned the vehicle into the attack. In shock, the Jeep and the engine hissed angrily. The wolf, not expecting the retaliation, was thrown at full speed against a nearby tree. Laurie heard a thunderous crack as the pine and perhaps a bone snapped; his pained whelp confirmed her hope. She slowed the vehicle and turned to face her nemesis. In the headlights, she could see him favoring his front, right paw and grinned ferociously at his beleaguered howl. Pacing despite his limp, the beast glared at her while he weighed his options: charge her or retreat. His body tensed and his mouth pulled back in a vicious grimace, yellowed teeth begging to slice into her tender neck. She revved the engine, prepared to take this fight to the end. With a guttural snarl, he disappeared back into the woods towards the trailer. Laurie, still gripping the wheel in determination, paused. She had her freedom; she knew that in her bones. Laurie, however, could not let go of the images from this terrible night. She could not stop seeing body after body butchered by this monster. And she could not let go of the foreboding sense that the wolf wanted more of Megan than to satisfy his hunger. He was too gentle with Megan, almost protective of Laurie’s sister.
Laurie sighed weary and resolved to hunt the murderous creature until one of them went down for good. Before she could second guess her decision, Laurie drove back towards the trailer. Finally, all her fear, misgivings, and insecurities of her previous life had vanished or rather had become much less pressing. The new Laurie, this hunter, understood the likelihood of her dying before the night ended and maintained her course regardless of this knowledge.
She drove the Jeep until she reached about half a mile from the lane. She killed the engine, grabbed the cross that had fallen onto the seat, and stealthily made her way towards the trailer. She decided to travel through the woods rather than walk in the open. She knew the shape of the trees here well having lived her entire life on her grandmother’s land. Her bare feet, though getting somewhat raw from crossing the terrain, served her well. She could step more quietly and therefore more quickly towards her home. Within ten minutes, she found herself hunched once more by the truck and waiting for signs of the wolf. Laurie considered the various entrances into the home and which offered the best means of catching the monster unaware. Within moments, however, the wolf offered an unexpected alternative.
The wolf, holding the collar of Megan’s halter gently in his teeth, pulled Laurie’s sister moaning from the trailer and padded into the back woods. Holding her breath, Laurie watched the creature drag her sister until they were almost out of sight; Laurie stalked the wolf fortified by her resolve and meager weapons, the hairpins and the cross/dagger. She kept what she believed to be a safe distance from them through the dense pines and sent a prayer heavenwards for being downwind of the pair.
This silent chase continued for roughly an hour when finally the wolf reached a small clearing close to a cave. Laurie fell back and took up surveying the wolf’s home. The clearing diameter measured roughly fifteen feet, just wide enough for the wolf to fully extend his body. A small rock formation at the edge of the space served as what Laurie interpreted as the wolf’s shelter. A bed of pine needles and brush lay at the opening of the cave upon which the wolf placed Megan. He bent his head and bit softly but deeply into her sister’s neck and then licked the wound clean. She hesitated to question why the wolf had brought Megan here, but she hoped it had nothing to do with Riordan’s final words regarding the wolf’s fallen mate. She watched her sister whimper in torment on the makeshift bed and refused for the moment to consider what Megan might be becoming. Rather than focusing on fallen girl, the huntress turned her energy towards the monster and how to slay him.
Laurie generated a rough plan of how to kill the wolf while traveling through the night, one which mainly depended upon surprise. The wolf had obviously left her to flee earlier in the jeep. His somewhat relaxed demeanor—the calmer breathing and loosened gait—encouraged Laurie’s belief that he thought her far gone. Even if he considered Laurie might still be nearby, Megan thoroughly occupied his attention. He settled near her and fixated on Megan’s every shudder and cry. When she groaned in pain, he responded with a gentle howl. When she tossed a little erratically, he nudged her with his muzzle in a gesture of comfort.
Satisfied and disturbed at the extent of the wolf’s distraction, Laurie pulled a needle from her ponytail and re-secured the cross in her jeans. Deathly quiet, Laurie stepped into the clearing. With only moonlight to guide her, Laurie made her way towards the beast’s back, arm raised pointedly with needle in hand.
Still downwind, Laurie silently choked on the reek of blood and decaying flesh still caught in the creature’s unwashed fur and sweltered from the heat emanating from his large body. This close, the creature was more than terrifying—it defied sanity. Daunted but determined, Laurie poised the stake above the wolf’s shoulders, where she believed his heart might reside, and slammed the weapon down as hard and as fast as she could. The wolf howled in distress and fury; he flung his front paw backwards to knock Laurie into a neighboring tree. Laurie hit the pine with a loud thud; the air fled her body and left her gasping. Fiery spasms scorched her muscles and bit at her fortitude. Laurie had never felt such pain in her life and struggled to rise above it and finish what she had started.
The wolf roared causing Megan to whimper in fear and Laurie to regain a sense of strength and determination. He flailed his arms but could not quite dislodge the needle. These attempts at freeing the weapon gave Laurie the chance she needed to resume command of her body and the hunt. Catching her breath, Laurie stood woozily. She grabbed the other needle from her hair and charged the wolf again with a cry ripping from her lips. He turned to her attack with a growl of his own and with his inhuman speed managed to throw her aside once more. Laurie’s needle flew out of her hand as she fell hard on her back and butt, bruising her tailbone and rattling her teeth. Unfazed, Laurie recaptured the needle. She stood as quickly as she could despite the piercing ache in her lower back and the burning inside her mouth. She grinned bloodily at the wolf and beckoned him closer. The monster threw back his head and howled at the would-be hunter; his charge came seconds later. This time, Laurie anticipated his attack. Just before he swiped at her with his claws, Laurie ducked and stabbed at the monster with her last needle. The pained howl following their short scrimmage indicated she had succeeded at wounding him again, an assumption verified when she saw the needle protruding from his left eye.
The wolf crumpled to the ground, weakened by his wounds. He took several long breaths and stumbled before he finally stood firm. In pain and bleeding, the huntress knew only luck had enabled her to injure the beast thus far not any skill. Laurie only had one weapon left–the one she hoped would end this horrible night. Breathing heavily, the wolf and the huntress circled one another both knowing this would be the last time they danced. Nearly depleted but committed, Laurie pulled the cross from the back of her jeans and spat out a mouthful of blood. She gripped the weapon in her fist with the sharp end directed towards the ground. Somehow, perhaps by the grace of God, it had remained with her despite all of the knocking around she had endured. Laurie sent up a small prayer to God and her grandmother, asking for protection and making her peace. She was not sure she could kill the beast especially with only one last weapon. Fear once more attempted to flood her, to force her to waver and perhaps simple give up and bare her veins to the wolf’s fetid bite. Laurie, the girl who cried religiously on the playground during grade school, the girl who never fought back when her sister stole from her or their grandmother, and the girl who let Jimmy bully his way into her life and home, drew in with one breath every ounce of will she could muster from the depths of her soul. Well, she thought darkly, she had always sucked at living. She released the air drawn in with a scream reverberating with all of the ire and ferocity tearing through her.
The two rushed each other and roared. Laurie watched the claws extend and knew she would not survive this battle. She maintained her course, resolved to die her best. At the last moment before impact, she felt angry, terrified, and at peace—her turmoil of emotions once more almost made her miss a crucial opportunity. The wolf’s injured leg, the one she helped break with the Jeep, gave out at that same second. Turning her body in line with the beast, Laurie drove the glinting cross over and over into the wolf’s screaming through every plunge. The wolf’s claws dug into the soft flesh of Laurie’s arm and back. He sought to tear her body apart; he hungered for the huntress’s death with a depth steeped in the marrow of generations and generations of wolves and their hunters. Laurie’s world revolved around teeth and claws snapping for her flesh, her very soul. Nevertheless, the huntresses continued to stab at the creature until all reserves of life failed her. The blood streaming from his chest, drained the monster of its fury within moments and freed her from his jaws and both collapsed onto the ground. For a several long breaths, neither hunter nor monster moved. Finally, Laurie managed to wrestle out from under the dead werewolf which quickly reverted back to human form. An average looking man, one she had never seen before, emerged from where the wolf had just died.
Laurie crawled over to figure, her right arm bent unnaturally and revealed exposed muscle through shredded flesh, and pushed the man onto his back. He was maybe five foot ten with dark hair and blue eyes. Slightly handsome and in decent shape, he looked more like someone Megan would have picked up at the bar rather than a carnivorous demon. Perhaps, Laurie wondered, one could never really know the beast or the steel that could lurk within someone. This seemingly ordinary man held a terrible inner monster and she had the ability to slaughter it.
She wrenched the cross from his chest and the blood gushed more forcefully from whatever artery or major organ she had fortunately managed to pierce. Sitting ached so horribly, Laurie pulled herself to her feet despite wanting to sleep forever and glanced over at her sister. She considered again what Riordan had said, about killing the wolf’s mate, and the nonfatal nip the wolf gave Megan before Laurie began her assault. Instincts buzzing, Laurie shuffled closer to her sister, the cross loosely held in her left hand. Megan was moaning and moving restlessly in her unconsciousness. Laurie weakly hoped her sister had mentally shut down or was more deeply wounded than she appeared until she looked closer at her sister’s hands. The nails had begun to extend into sharp claws and dark, coarse hair adorned Megan’s usually fair forearms. The sister in Laurie wept in frustration and denial; the hunter within her pieced together the evidence and steadied Laurie’s hand. The two united and in bitterness faced the monster infecting Megan’s soul.
Weary, Laurie slowly fell to resting on her knees and watched her sister. She brushed a few sweaty tendrils of blond hair from her feverish head and ran a loving hand across her distorted jaw. Laurie bent over one last time, kissed Megan’s brow, and then straightened with a long sigh.
“I love you, Meggie,” the huntress whispered and tightened her grip on the silver cross.
Monster Seeking 
