Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set (76 page)

When he did wake up, beaming, she’d sat on the edge of his bed and explained that it had been a one-time “friends with benefits” thing. He’d cried. For ten minutes he’d sobbed into his pillow about how his heart had been broken a second time in twenty-four hours, and finally Michele decided that her best plan of action was to go away.

He kept calling and sending her text messages and e-mails. He changed his Facebook relationship status to “It’s complicated.” She kept trying to explain that she’d lost herself in the moment and wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. Finally, a week after their night together, she’d gotten completely fed up with the situation and used the term “pity fuck.” He quit calling, texting, and e-mailing. He changed his Facebook relationship status to “Single.”

Michele felt terrible. She hated losing a friend.

This morning, after a mildly restless sleep that came from being nervous about the fact that her period hadn’t started quite yet, she’d awakened feeling sick to her stomach, rushed into the bathroom, and vomited.

She couldn’t be pregnant. They’d used protection
and
she was on the pill. One-night-stand pregnancy came from drunken flings, not pity sex.

She’d prayed to God that it was just food poisoning. She’d thawed the chicken out on the counter. You weren’t supposed to do that. She knew that, and now she was suffering for her careless meal preparation.

She’d driven forty-five minutes away to ensure that she didn’t run into anybody she knew while buying the pregnancy test. Then, with the bag and receipt in her hand, she’d suddenly decided that she had to know
now
, and so she found herself in a Walgreens restroom, peeing on a stick.

When the test showed that she wasn’t pregnant, she’d cried with relief.

Then she’d cried with disappointment.

She certainly didn’t want to have Aaron’s kid, and the test being negative was a one-hundred-percent good thing. She was emotionally wrecked from all of the stress and that’s why she was crying like this. That’s all it was. She’d had a rough day.

On the way out of the store, she’d bought some flowers to make herself feel better. Carnations. Even if buying herself flowers was mildly pathetic, it did cheer her up.

And then, while fueling up, a bunch of dogs went berserk and she got stuck in a van with a couple of mobsters.

If she believed in karma, she would’ve thought that she was being punished for breaking Aaron’s heart with their ill-advised intercourse. Or that her habit of pulling on the family dog Tin-Tin’s tail when she was three had finally come back to haunt her. But she didn’t believe in that stuff, so it was just bad luck. Wrong place at the wrong time.

She felt like she should be siding with the guy in the cage, but he just seemed...well,
evil
. Instantly unlikable. If Ivan approached her at a bar, she’d be creeped out and refuse to touch any drinks he bought her. Though he obviously wasn’t a werewolf, he probably deserved to be locked up in there--she could imagine him wandering the streets, offering lollipops to little girls if they promised not to tell.

Of course, George and Lou were clearly not kind-hearted, caring people, and she genuinely believed that they might kill her if they felt backed into a corner. She could definitely see them walking her out into the woods, apologizing softly, then putting a bullet in the back of her head. They’d feel awful about it, but they’d do what needed to be done.

Swearing not to tell anybody wasn’t going to work.
Of course
she’d tell. There was no possible way she wouldn’t run to the police and describe the two thugs in their black van, and they knew it. They weren’t going to simply let her go.

But if they thought that she thought they had a deal, there’d be no reason to come to their senses and kill her. They could stop constantly worrying about her. And then she could find an opportunity to escape. Now that they’d stopped the van, maybe an opportunity was approaching.

And--she couldn’t deny it--this was all kind of exciting. A werewolf? Where was this going to lead?

George shut the passenger-side door of the van and walked around to the back. She could jump out right now and make a break for it.

No, too risky. She didn’t want to get shot.

But with George distracted by whatever he was planning to do with Ivan, she’d definitely keep her eye on Lou.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Don’t Mess With Wolves In Cages

George opened the rear doors of the van. Ivan seemed to be trying very, very hard to look amused by the whole situation.

“You know, you have to actually open up the cage if you want to beat me with a tire iron,” Ivan said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all in favor of you making a fatal mistake, but that seems pretty extreme.”

“I’m not opening the cage,” said George. He waited for a few moments, letting the tension build, then took his pistol out of the holster.

“So you’re going to shoot the cargo?”

“Question for you. How long do you think it takes to bleed to death from a kneecap that was shattered by a bullet?”

“No idea.”

“More than three hours. So you’ll still be alive when we deliver you.”

“Okay.”

“How long do you think it takes to bleed to death from two kneecaps that were shattered by bullets?”

“More than three hours?”

“Exactly. And where do you think is one of the most painful places to get shot?”

“We both know that you’re not going to shoot me.”

“Oh, trust me, I know no such thing. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, I’ll take my scolding like a man. If there was ever a time in your life when you should be cooperative, it’s now.”

“Do you really think that threatening me with a gun is going to get you accurate information?”

George nodded. “I’m a good judge of when somebody is telling me the truth.”

“I saw how you flinched when I said I had a bomb strapped to my leg.”

George chose to ignore that. “When somebody is scared, it’s easy to tell if they’re lying. And I don’t care how cocky you are, having a gun pointed at you is a scary thing.”

“And what are you going to say when they ask why you shot me?”

“I’ll say that you told me you had a bomb strapped to your leg, and that you wouldn’t show me, and that I felt I had no other way to keep their precious werewolf from blowing himself up.”

Ivan’s smile vanished.

George pointed the gun at him and gave Ivan his coldest stare. “What do you know about those dogs?”

“I didn’t do anything to them.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Point the gun someplace else and I’ll tell you.”

“Do I need to start counting?”

“Okay, fine. Fine.” Ivan looked a bit flustered, though he was clearly struggling to maintain a calm demeanor. “When I get stressed out, it has a weird effect on dogs. I don’t know why. It’s been like that since I was a teenager.”

“This bad?”

“No, never this bad, but I’ve never been this stressed before! I don’t know what it is; maybe I’ve got some...” He trailed off. “I don’t even know. That’s how this whole werewolf thing started, but I swear there’s nothing to it beyond that.”

“That doesn’t seem like enough to create a werewolf theory.”

“I told people that I was a werewolf, all right? I used it to impress some chicks in a club. You know, those ones who are all wet over Team Jacob. You tell them you’re a werewolf, you watch a dog flip out, and you’re in their panties. I don’t think any of them really believed it, it was all just role-playing, but word got back to Bateman and he sure as hell believed it.”

“So you’re officially saying that you’re not a werewolf?”

“Why do I even need to officially deny something like that? How am I supposed to prove it? What should I do,
not
transform into a wolf? The full moon is two weeks away; I couldn’t change if I wanted to. You’ve got me in a no-win situation here, George.”

“If you’ve got dog blood in you or something, how could that work from so far away, inside a van?”

“I don’t know! If I understood it, I’d be doing a lot more with the power than just trying to get laid. It’s just some weird effect I have on dogs that I can’t control. Nothing more.”

“You’re stressed now. Why aren’t any dogs coming after us?”

“How the hell should I know? Maybe the residents of this town are cat people! I’m not a werewolf, for Christ’s sake!” He scooted over to the end of the cage and held up his palm. “Like your partner said, no pentagram. If I was a werewolf, I wouldn’t care that you’ve got a gun on me, because I’m sure you don’t have silver bullets in there. What are the other signs?”

“I’m not sure,” George admitted.

Ivan extended his arm all the way out of the cage. The barrel of George’s pistol was still a couple of feet out of his grasp. “I don’t have hairy palms. I don’t have an unusually long middle finger. It’s all a huge misunderstanding.”

“Put your arm back in the cage,” said George.

“I don’t know what you want from me! Do you need me to break my arm to show that there aren’t werewolf bones underneath? Is that what I need to do?” Ivan bashed his arm against the cage, hard enough to make George wince.

Ivan bashed his arm again. His eyes were crazed, like he’d totally lost it.

George lowered his gun. “Hey, knock that off.”

“I’ll split my arm open! Then you’ll see!” Ivan struck the bars again, right on the elbow, and George was surprised that the bone didn’t break through the skin. It hurt just to see it.

“I mean it. Stop that.” For a half-second, George was about to make a move to restrain him, then he caught himself. Ivan could snap both of his own arms off if he wanted, but George wasn’t going to get close enough to the cage for Ivan to grab him. Not a chance.

One more slam, this one against the top of the cage, and George thought he might have heard a bone crack. He wondered if Lou was feeling queasy. “Is that what you want?” Ivan asked, extending his arm all the way, but still coming up a foot short of George’s neck. “Is that what you want?”

“This needs to stop,” George said. This was getting out of control. It was time to just shut the doors again and drive out of here.

Then Ivan’s arm changed. Instantly.

One second it was a regular human arm, the next second it had doubled in bulk and sprouted thick dark brown fur. And in that second it had lengthened and made up the distance between Ivan’s fingers and George’s neck.

George could barely even register what had happened.

Now he had a set of claws digging into his throat.

“Drop the gun!” Ivan shouted. The rest of his body remained human, though his voice had gone down about an octave. “Drop it now or I’ll rip open your neck!”

George dropped the gun. He wasn’t sure if he was actually following Ivan’s orders, or if he was just too shocked to keep a hold of his weapon.

“Stay where you are, Lou!” said Ivan, not looking back. George couldn’t tell if Lou could see exactly what had happened or not. “I’ll kill him! One squeeze and he’s dead!”

George wanted to shout “Do what he says!” but he couldn’t breathe. How had this happened? How the hell had--

Lou fired a shot into Ivan’s back.

Michele screamed.

Ivan grimaced, and blood misted in the air, but he didn’t release his grip on George’s throat. His other arm transformed, so quickly that George could barely see it change, and then he grabbed the front of George’s shirt and yanked on it, slamming George’s face into the cage.

“Tell him not to shoot me again!”

George couldn’t speak.

“I have nothing to lose!” Ivan shouted. “I’ll kill him! You fire that gun again and his death is on you!”

“Okay, okay,” said Lou. “Just stay calm.”

“Give the gun to the girl! Now!”

Lou handed the gun to Michele. She took it, but seemed unsure whether she should point it at Lou or Ivan.

“Nobody has to die,” said Ivan. “We can get through this and go our separate ways. You just need to let me out of the cage.”

George managed to find his voice. “We don’t have the key.”

Ivan raked the talon of his index finger down George’s cheek, causing him to cry out in pain. He could already feel the blood trickling down his face. “You’re not delivering a cage without a key. I will pop your fuckin’ eye if you don’t stop playing around.”

“It’s in the glove compartment,” said Lou.

“Get it.” Ivan slammed George against the bars again. “I bet you’re feeling a little bit silly, huh? Maybe you’ll think twice before you mess with another werewolf. You know what, I should just do it. I should just rip your throat out. It would be worth never getting out of this cage to watch you choke on your own blood.”

“Don’t...”

“Say please.”

“
Please
.”

“Oooooh, that almost sounds like you’re begging for your life! I like that. I like that a lot. Do it some more, motherfucker!”

“I’ve got it,” Lou announced.

“Then get over here!” Ivan licked his lips. “Georgie, you really don’t know how much I want to take a big bite out of you. I just think you look delicious right now. Mmmmmmm.”

George had no response. He was still trying to process the fact that not only might he be moments away from death, but there was a living, breathing goddamn werewolf right in front of him. There were countless ways for a guy like him to die, but like
this
? What could they even put on his tombstone?

Lou hurried around to the back of the van, breathing heavily in panic. He held up the key to show Ivan.

“Don’t show it to me! Use it!”

Lou didn’t hesitate. He shoved the key into the lock and turned it sideways.

Ivan immediately released his grip on George’s neck and shoved the cage door wide open. It smashed into George and knocked him to the ground. Ivan jumped out of the cage, landing on his feet and transforming as soon as he hit the dirt.

His pants and shirt split apart, exposing a newly muscular and fur-covered body. He grew at least two feet in height, and claws burst through his shoes.

Ivan’s face took longer to change completely--several seconds rather than almost instantly. Along with the sprouting brown fur, his jaws extended, his nose transformed into a snout, and his ears changed into the pointed ears of a wolf.