Title: Pele’s Story
Chapter: Part I
Genre: Paranormal
Rating: PG-13
Note: I started this in first person. I really don’t like it. The next bit will be done in 3rd and this revised at a later date so I can do more
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Daddy had been pleased when the pharmaceuticals lawyer finally agreed to his terms of purchase.
Daddy had been happy when the snitch he’d been looking for was found shot up with enough hallucinogens he uninhibitedly told Daddy all of his secrets.
Daddy would be happy when the werewolf disappeared.
I lifted the helmet off and sat it on the handlebars of my latest toy; a brand new hover-bike. The night air was cool and in this poor area the air was fragrant with exhaust fumes and week old garbage. Werewolves were disgusting creatures; it only made sense that this one would be here. I tapped at the talisman hanging from my throat; my latest creation. It protected me from tooth and claw; handy when facing off with a werewolf at the height of the full moon.
My plan had worked perfectly.
Even now I could hear the howls of the stupid beast, trapped by necessity.
The muscles in my face tugged my lips into a grin as I thought about what fun I was about to have. The bundle of ‘gifts’ from Brangaty’s Precious Trinkets slung over my shoulder, all that was left to do was go inside. As an afterthought I turned back to the bike and lay my hand on the headlight.
“Noho.” A little flash of light and a speck of energy settled onto the bike; no one would be able to touch it.
Inside the cavernous building, one of the few made of ancient blocks of stone, it was clear it was no longer occupied. This was good. It meant I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone else; just my prey.
He was below ground, locked in a cell within a cell within a cell. He wasn’t the first werewolf I had seen, but he had to be the biggest. Dark eyes were bloodshot and ringed in a feral redness. Though his coat of fur was a molted black and brown and showed scraggly in places, like he had mange or a skin condition, he was still a creature of power, of darkness, of night.
Like me.
I stopped at the outermost gate and looked in. He was crazed. There was no vestige of the half of man that lived inside of him, that kept his soul trapped within the beasts body, but he still looked at me for one almost lucid moment.
A predator recognizing another.
He began snapping the air and growling ominously and threw his bulk against the bars. Curiously, I stood and watched; I was fascinated, not scared. I took out the key from my pocket and fit it into the lock. As the door clicked open the cell became deathly quiet. That part of the beast that remembered being more was probably screaming at the wolf to run. When he locked himself in this cell he would have been assured that he held the only key; a key that would be in the cell with the wolf under a fitted brick that wolf claws and teeth could not budge but human fingers could. He had probably come to this shelter desperate, caught out too late by a series of unfortunate incidents that added up to disaster.
If a wolf, even one with such a good record as this one, were to kill any creature he would be put to death. Just like a vampire or demon or human. The no-death rule was probably what kept their society from falling in on its self; so many creatures were never meant to live alongside each other.
I pulled the first door closed behind me and flipped for the second key.
The wolf threw its self backwards and howled, head tossed back and pointed towards a grate in the ceiling where moonlight flowed down to bathe it’s horrid child in a pale glow.
Securing the second gate behind me I stood outside the last thing between myself and my prey. Giddy to the point of laughter, I allowed myself a deep, throaty laugh. It cut through the werewolf’s howl, silencing it.
“You think your kind is going to come and save you?”
It stared back at me, nose twitching.
“They gave you up to me.” I sat my bundle down, the sound of metal clanking together sent a shiver through the wolf.
It bunched, as if to pounce, but stayed still. Watching me.
“You want to see what I have?”
I pretended it spoke back to me, saying, ‘Yes, Miss Pele, I do want to see what it is you have.’
“Very well, I’ll show you.”
I flicked back the flap and spilled the silver chains out onto the stone floor. The silver machete I grabbed and held out so that the wolf could see its’ own reflection in the polished surface.
The wolf howled and began throwing its self against the bars, but these very bars had held for generations of wolves. So close to this much silver it would probably be salivating blood soon enough. A single silver bullet would kill a werewolf, while silver chains would burn it away to nothing, leaving the man.
“I’m disappointed.” I pouted, though the thrilling feeling of what I was about to do was bubbling up within me. “I thought you’d like my present.”
It howled again, the sound reverberating off of the walls so loud it threatened to give me a headache.
“Stop that,” I snapped and stood up, machete in hand. The great maws opened to howl again. Rage at being disobeyed gnawed at me. “Kulikuli!” A crackling of white light shot from my outstretched hand and hit the wolf, knocking the air out of it and slamming the creature back against the bars.
Smug, I pulled out the third key. “That’s why I use my native language,” I informed the wolf. “There are so many things that can be implied that the magic takes different forms.”
The wolf recovered faster than I thought it would and bunched low, as if to spring at me. “Wailana,” I said sternly. The energy transfer had already taken place; I just had to mold it to what I wanted it to do. The form of the wolf glowed and the creature held perfectly still.
“It’s so much easier when you cooperate.”
I walked towards the creature, my boots making soft thumping sounds against the stone. The wolf, stilled and silenced couldn’t do anything but glare at me with those feral red eyes.
“We’re going to have so much fun together.” I grinned and ruffed the fur on top of the wolfs head, and tried to decide which part of him I would cut first.
