It’s not as bad as you would think it is. The movies make it out to be like a curse or something but the reality of it isn’t really like that. My name is Reed Hastings and I am a werewolf.
Okay, I’m not a werewolf all of the time. I don’t change when some devils star is etched on my hand. I don’t even change when there is a full moon. However, the days before and after a full moon are when the wolf is at its most powerful, should I decide to use it. My senses are also heightened, even when in human form. For awhile there, that was a bit hard to deal with, some smells really hit you, but you learn to ignore them.
As far as the change… In the beginning, the first few months, before you learn to control it, you do get hit with that whole unexpected moon phase transition thing, but you get it under control by the third month. Let me tell you, waking up naked and covered in blood in your neighbors garden, is not something you want to keep doing. So the motivation is there to get a handle on it. Like I said, it’s not really a curse as much as a gift. A gift received while backpacking through London, as stereotypical as that may sound. It’s not like I was out on the road and a blood hungry werewolf saw me and decided to make me his dinner. For me, I was staying in this hostel and met this woman named Brianna. Drinks were had, naked bodies intertwined in passionate sex, and she liked to bite. That’s key right there. You not only have to have sex with a person that is a werewolf, but they have to bite you within a very short time period of the sex for whatever it is that activates the change to actually happen. And you thought I was going to tell you that I was a bleeding mess on the side of the road ?
Becoming a werewolf did change my life in other ways though. It opened up this entire secret world that lives underneath the reality that most of humanity lives in. The occult and the supernatural exist, they are real, they are based on the stories told to children at night before bed. However, there are some very real dangers in that world that the sleeping, or normal human, is never aware of. That’s what has brought me to the backroads of Eastern Europe with my business partner, Nigel Edmunds. He’s just a sleeping, as in not supernatural, human. I had met him in his country of Scotland long ago. If I had not opened his eyes to everything, he would have never known about any of this. Now he’s all in on investigating the strange and uncanny.
We were standing at the bottom of a staircase, that led up to two massive wooden doors, in a decrepit house, where no one ever goes because “ghosts live there.” Normally ghost stories are just nice little ghost stories, end of story, but people have been disappearing in the area, so it was the next case we took. The well to do, upper class parents of a teenager who disappeared with his friends, had reached out to us after they visited the small village nearby. There they had heard about all of the ghost stories and strange disappearances. Their son had vanished more than 2 years ago, but they had that nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. So there we were. Standing at the nexus point to what everyone in the village thought was the pure evil that brought forth the shadow on their land.
“It looks like a shitty place to live,” said Nigel.
“Definitely qualifies for the look of a ghost house. I’m not picking up any weird scents or anything though. Maybe some mold and mildew, but nothing out of the ordinary.” I said.
“I’ll get our stuff from the van, you try the door. Better you go in first.”
“A little frightened there Nigel?”
“Not at all, I just figured you would want to piss on the bannister and mark your territory a bit. I just had my shoes shined, wouldn’t want to get them all messed up with the splatter,” he jokingly jibed.
I made my way up the front steps, putting my senses of smell, hearing, and site to the test. The first thing I noticed was that there were no birds. The entire area was just dead silence. There was a faint breeze that carried that mildew on the wind but not much else. The house was caked in cracked white paint that was chipping and flaking from years and years of old age and neglect. When I tried the door, it swung in with ease, not even a creak in the hinge.
“No creak,” I yelled back.
“Excellent, our first ghost house where the ghosts are keen to use WD-40 on the hinges. Add that to the weird,” said Nigel.
As I stepped over the threshold, it was as if I could feel a static electricity surge over my skin, raising my hairs on end. It was only a split second though, gone just as soon as I recognised it. As Nigel followed me in I said, “Did you feel that?”
“Like static on your skin when came in the door.”
He looked annoyed at me. “Now who’s frightened?”
I shook it off. Afterall, it’s not like the pricklies on the back of your neck actually mean that ghosts are around.
Inside the house, it was the three D’s. Damp, dark, and decrepit. To the left of the main entry was a small powder room and a staircase that led to the second floor. Going straight through the foyer, put you into a hall, which brought you to the kitchen. Off to the right of the foyer was a living area that fell back into a dining area which connected back over to the kitchen. Upstairs were three bedrooms and a bathroom. After a quick tour of the house we were left thoroughly unimpressed.
“Well this amounts to a big pile of steaming nothing, now doesn’t it?” Said Nigel.
“Looks that way. We’ll go ahead and set up the cameras, sensors, and monitors though. Who knows? Maybe when the sun goes down?”
“Right. We could have taken the case of the SS girls and that Dr. Frankenheimer in Germany but no? We get stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with a pissant village that has a bar with the most pissy ale, and this house that rates a zero on the meter of interesting. At least the money is good though. Right?” Replies Nigel.
“I promise, we’ll get to the SS girls later.”
“That’s what you said the last time. When you had us down in South America chasing your relative the Chupacabra.”
“That hurt’s Nigel. That was a low one right there. Besides, we found Chupra on that run. You wouldn’t give up ole’ Chupra would you?”
“No, not on your life. Once he got the mange taken care of, he ended up being the best damn dog in the world. Speaking of which, we’ve got no cell signal out here so I can’t even call the pet sitter to see how Chupra is doing. That’s your fault too.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “I’m going to walk the perimeter of the house, you be okay in here?”
Nigel nods his okay and I step out into the silence of the approaching evening. Overcast storm clouds are rolling in over the setting horizon. The wind picks up as I round the first corner of the house. By the time I get to the back of the house, you can hear the high pitched moan of the air through the forest of trees. All in all it is more than a little ominous.
On the back of the house I see the inclined double doors that lead to a basement. The handles have chains roped through and then locked with a padlock. With no interior access to the basement, this had to be the only way of getting down there. I gave the door a tug but the chains held tight. So I stepped back and looked around, a force of habit, to make sure the coast was clear. Digging deep within my soul I called up the power the wolf within. I didn’t want to go full wolf but I wanted to draw on that strength and power that the wolf could wield. Reaching down once again, I grabbed the chains and ripped the handles from the doors themselves. Tossing the chains to the side, I threw open the doors, and looked down into the dark depths below. The stale air hit me with a rush, even being able to ignore the strong stuff, it was a powerful stench indeed. As I let my eyes become accustomed to the darkness I could swear there was a flicker of blue that came from within. Not knowing if this could be coming from a hole in the floor of the one of the rooms where the monitors were being set up or not, I decided to continue around the house and then let Nigel know of the new discovery.
“Hey Nigel? Where are you?”
“I’m up here in the lap of stinking luxury?” Came his reply from the upstairs.
“I found an outer entrance to the basement, on the back of the house.”
Popping his head around the corner to look down at me he said, “Did you piss on it?”
“Get down here. Where are the flashlights?”
“Everything is in the kitchen. I figured even the ghosts might think to look for food. Old habits die hard.”
Going into the kitchen I grabbed a pair of flashlights and then took note of where the cellar doors were in relation to the inside rooms. No way could there be any monitor light reflecting down there. Also weird was the fact that where a backdoor should be, was a just a wall covered in various layers of wallpaper. I shrugged it off and headed back to the front of the house, where I threw Nigel one of the flashlights and we both headed back around to the cellar.
“After you, in case you need to wolf out… or something,” he says as he motions me forward.
The steps were made of cement, with each one taken downward, I could feel the chill from within rise over my body. Spider webs fluttered in the corners and I could feel strands over my face as I moved forward. To each side, there were shelves with your normal garden tools and yard care devices. All the way back though, there was another door. This door radiated with the blue tinge that oh so subtly pierced the darkness.
Coming up behind me, Nigel was focused in on the mysterious doorway. “Well, you don’t see that everyday.”
The closer we got to the door, the colder it became. Then we heard the sound of a little girl’s voice, “You’re a good doggy!”
We both jumped back, swinging our flashlights to the right. There, a little translucent girl wearing a pink dress with her blonde hair in pigtails, stepped forward on airy feet.
“I like you doggy,” she said.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name is Samantha.”
“Well hello Samantha. My name is Reed and this is Nigel.”
She continues to stare at us with a big toothless smile.
“Do you live here Samantha?”
“Yes, we all do.”
“You mean, your family?”
“No, all the others that always come here.”
“Why do others come here?”
“Oh, Otto brings them,” she giggled.
“And who is Otto?” Asked Nigel in a very condescending voice that I instantly hoped the apparition can’t pick up on.
“Otto lives in there,” she said, pointing to the blue tinged door.
“Is Otto in there right now? Can we speak to Otto?” I asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Otto doesn’t like visitors,” she said.
I stand fully up and look over to the door. Moving forward I put my hand through the handle and pull.
“I really don’t think that is a good idea,” said the girl.
With little resistance it opens and a rush of air escapes the inner chamber. Peeking inside, I can see a sparsely furnished room with wooden furniture. On the far wall is a pot cooking over a stove. I nod in the direction of the pot and said to Nigel, “Did you see smoke from anywhere above?”
“Nothing. Not even a wisp.”
“Come on, let’s go in.”
“You heard the little apparition right there, not a good idea!” He said as he pointed in the child’s direction, but the child is gone.
“I think we’ve found are haunting Nigel.”
“That we have.”
We entered the room of Otto and let the door slowly close behind us, making sure to try it again and verifying that it will open from the inside. In any event, we took a mild sigh in knowing that the door didn’t lock us in. As Nigel made his way over to the table that sat 4 chairs, I went over to the fireplace and ducked my head just far enough in to look up through the chimney into a void of nothing.
“Anything up there Fido?” Asks Nigel.
“Nothing. It definitely doesn’t have a scientific explanation yet.”
“The werewolf is still looking for science in everything. I always get a kick out of that. Never mind the fact that they we just had a conversation with a ghost right outside that door.”
“It’s best to prove the how and why of what can be proved, then… we focus on the other stuff.”
Looking around, we saw that the chamber kept moving back into the blackness of an actual cave.
“So wait for this Otto or check the cave?”
“We’re already breaking an entering, might as well take a look ahead,” said Nigel.
As we step forward toward the cave, the girl’s voice rings out from behind us. “That’s really, really, not a good idea.”
“And why is that?” I ask.
“The Bitch Monger will be hungry right now. At the very least, you should wait until Otto comes back with more food. She gets angry when she hasn’t eaten.”
“Did the kid just say Bitch Monger?” Asked Nigel.
“Who is this Bitch Monger?” I ask.
“She makes the meat music.”
The fact that we were virtually speaking two different languages using the same words was frustrating but I kept on.
“And what is “meat music?”
“It’s the music we all sing before we are free,” said Samantha.
“Oh that’s just bloody great. I think I get her meaning her. Maybe she’s right. Maybe we just have a talk with this Otto fellow and skip the introductions to the Bitch Monger. We stop the Otto, we stop the Monger.” Said Nigel.
Just then, the door to the chamber opened.
Teenage Stew and Songs of Moaning
In walks a cro-magnon looking man, dressed in firs and dragging a thick net with people inside. When he sees us he instantly drops the net and pulls a hatchet from his belt. He seizes on Nigel first and then starts to make quick lumbering moves toward him, raising the hatchet high over his head.
“Hey Fido, this is the perfect time for you to wolf out man!”
It all happens so quickly, but I feel the stretching of skin, the movement of muscle, and the ripping of clothing as the transformation takes hold. For me, those few seconds feel like an eternity. The feeling of pain mixed with familiar movement had become a normal thing by then, but the change was never something that I was able to get used to. It is physical as well as spiritual in some hypersensitive way in which even I cannot describe with any adequacy.
I was between Otto and Nigel in mere seconds, raising my long and elongated hands to catch Otto’s wrists. A quick glance behind me and I saw Nigel fall backward to the floor while the people in the net were yelling in frantic terror. Were they yelling at being abducted by Otto or because a werewolf from out of old fairytales had just appeared in their presence? Either way, they were lucky that I was there. I overpowered Otto’s advance and threw him onto the table, shattering and splintering the wood beneath him. The hatchet dropped from his hand to the cold stone floor and before he could get up I leaped atop of him. My jaws were just inches from his head as spittle dripped from my open mouth onto his bearded face.
“Doggy wait?” Called Samantha, who now appeared just before me.
“I promise doggy, Otto won’t hurt you. Will you Otto?”
Looking down from the child to the caveman beneath me he began shaking his head. I noticed tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. I pushed myself off of him and felt the change take hold. At the same time, Nigel comes up next to me and says, “You had him right there and you just heeled like a lap dog to the fucking apparition like she was your master or something.” shaking his head in disbelief he continued on, “Man’s best friend does not include men from prehistoric times or ghosts!”
After the change, I stood still for a few seconds, taking deep breaths. My clothes were a shredded wreak. Only my pants clung to me with ripped legs and my shirt was draped in tatters around me.
“Are you done Nigel?” I said.
“Oh, I’m done, the floor is all yours.”
The people in the net struggled to my left while Otto lay flat on his back before me. Samantha stood above his head with that little girls grin that would have been sweet and childlike if she wasn’t a translucent ghost.
I picked up Otto’s hatchet from the ground and chopped open the top of the netting. It fell free and there were 3 teenagers inside. Two girls and a one boy, shaking and pale white with fear. They all crawled to the front wall and cowered there, waiting for whatever else this freak night would spring upon them.
Otto slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. He looked just as terrified as the teens to be honest.
“Otto, do you speak?”
He nodded his head in affirmation but said nothing.
“Okay, what are you doing with these kids?”
“Bitch Monger hungry.”
“I got that. So you abduct people to feed her?” I asked.
He nodded at the teens and then said, “Bitch Monger hungry, meat and meat song makes Bitch Monger happy.”
“What’s the meat song Otto?”
“Oh for Christ’s sake Reed, you can put two and two together. Do you need the big oaf to say it?” Asked Nigel.
“Yes, I need him to confirm.” I look back at him and he just sat there as a smile turned up on his face. “Bitch Monger make meat sing pretty song.”
We had found the reason for the missing people that came into the area but we were still not sure what we were up against. I told the teens to go outside and then to wait in the house above for us, for us to come back. If we weren’t back by daylight, they were to make for the village. No way was I about to take them deeper into this pit of hell, but at the same time, I wanted to get them away from Otto, just in case. We tied Otto up using rope from his own netting and then left him in a corner. Samantha wasn’t too happy about how he was being treated and even scolded me once, “That’s a bad doggy, you need to untie him.”
Once we were sure Otto was secure, Nigel and I headed back into the cave. A hundred feet back and we arrived at a torch in a sconce on the stone wall. The flames flickered on the walls, casting dancing shadows on the stone, while pops of sound echoed in the air. Nigel carried Otto’s hatchet in his hand. He had wanted to go back up to the kitchen and grab his revolver but I wanted to get this over with so he grabbed the only other weapon available.
We could see down the cavern to yet another torch. This time, as we moved carefully through the cavern, we heard screams in the distance.
“Bloody hell, that sounded like a woman!” Said Nigel.
We started running through the corridors following torch after torch. As we rounded a bend we came out upon a great cavern hall. On the far side was a raised dais and sitting upon a throne made of bones was a gigantic beast with a human womans body, feet of a bull, and the hands of a sharp clawed lizard. The face was female but horrifying to view. Instead of hair she had long strands of coiled material that almost looked like pliable bamboo. A snake like tongue flicked out and caressed the torso of the person she held up between her sharp claws. The legs and the arms were scattered below her while blood drained from the ravaged carcass. The woman was no longer alive, yet the Bitch Monger licked the corpse like a lollipop and savored the blood that dripped to it’s tongue. To the Monger’s right was a cage where more humans cowered in the corner, terrified that they would be snatched next. The Monger flicked her tongue and separated the head, flipping it into the air, which she then lashed out with her tongue and swallowed it down. She then dropped the torso to the blood soaked floor below and reached into the cage to pull out another morsel.
“Hey Reed, I think maybe we should have listen to the little ghost. What the fuck is that thing?”
“Whatever it is, we’re going to have to stop it.” I said this not knowing how in the underworld we could even do that. Then we noticed the throng of bodies below the dias. Some were prostrate as if in prayer while others were swaying back and forth in their kneeling position. We could vaguely make out a rhythmic chant from the throng of, “More music, more music, more music.”
“I’ve got an idea… But you aren’t going to like it,” I said to Nigel.
“I need you to distract the followers and I’ll free the food.”
“Distract them? Distract them how? I’ve got a bloody hatchet. They have a bloody Bitch Monger!”
“Just run back toward the cellar once they see you.”
“Oh that’s a brilliant plan Reed. Just bloody brilliant. Once I get back there what should I do?”
“Get the kids, get in the van, and get to the village. I’ll meet you there.”
“And how are you going to fight that thing?”
“I don’t know… I’m making it up as I go along.”
Even as the wolf, the Bitch Monger would tower over me. I was left to rely on hopefully being quicker than her and a lot more agile. I stepped forward and let the transformation take hold again. The hair grew from my body like a tidal wave and my ears could make out the individual voices from the flock below. I could smell the fresh blood wafting through the stale air of the cavern. I took a couple more steps and then let out a massive howl that echoed and reverberated from wall to wall and then through every crevice. The Monger flock all turned to see me standing on a rock outcropping above them and then all hell broke loose. Instead of running toward us, they started running toward the cages. Then they started disappearing into cave openings along the wall. The Bitch Monger looked my way and then roared with the anger of hell from her blood quenched belly. She stood from her throne and then issued another blood curdling scream.
She moved with more speed than I could believe she had. A forked tail from behind kept her awkward size balanced. Saliva mixed with human blood spat from her grotesque mouth, dripping down to her arms and breasts. The yellow eyes were locked on my form and she had the fires of hell spilling from within.
Luckily for me, so did I.
When Bitch Monger Meets Wolf
She came at me with a ferocity I had not seen since taking down the Bloody Wraith King of Yugoslavia. I leaped from the ground with the full power of my canine hind legs and launched myself like a furry demon into the Mongers midsection. It was like hitting a boulder of hard granite, but the Bitch Monger felt it and stumbled backward, clutching her chest with her clawed hands.
I landed hard on the stone floor but maintained a fighting stance. I could see that Nigel was making his way around the outer perimeter to the cage below the dais. I had to keep this monster busy so he could free her tasty treats. She recovered her balance and homed in on me once again. I let loose another high pitched howl and then moved to attack her before she could attack me. I acted like I was going to make another jump, this got her clawing at the air before her. Instead, it was only a feint and I took off between her legs, grabbing her forked tail in my vicious jaws and pulling her from her feet. Her body was heavy but I pulled her over the stone floor. She clawed at the ground to get hold but I powered on, only letting go when the flesh and muscle of her tail was torn to much to keep a hold of.
I looked for Nigel again and he was ushering the humans from the cage into one of the cave walls. Whipping my head around to the Bitch Monger’s location, she was slowly rising from the ground. She no longer seemed to have the energy that she had at first exerted. Her head jerked in the direction of the cage and her eyes grew wide in horror. She instantly took off toward Nigel. So I ran as fast as my corded wolf muscles could propel me. I had to take her out. I had to end the nightmare that was the Bitch Monger.
Just as she was bearing down on Nigel, I leaped and bit down hard on the Bitch Monger’s neck, cutting off her scream and sending her stumbling backward in confusion. She tried to grasp at me and I could feel her sharp claws tearing across my skin, but I held tight and locked my jaw to get a good deep penetration with no possibility of her ripping me away. My own claws dug in deep to her surrounding skin and blood flowed freely from her wounds. I could taste the rust of her lifeblood over my tongue, as traces dripped to the back of my throat, and it only made me shake my head in anger, ripping deeper and deeper, into my preys softened neck.
Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes seemed to stretch on, until finally the Bitch Monger fell back to the cold and bloodied stone floor. I release my bite and raised up to watch her eyes go dim with a soft gurgle of blood as it passed over her ripped and chewed vocal chords. I jumped from her corpse and backed up to the stone dais. The wolf had done it’s job. We were safe. I could let the transformation wash over me once again. The fur and the sharp teeth would recede and my stretched muscles would tightened, back to a human form.
I sat there, tired and covered in the Monger’s blood. Nigel walked over to me and looked down at my wrecked state. Deep scratches ingrained in my back and legs which would take just days to heal and go away, but for now, they were searing reminders of the deadly fight that had just transpired.
“I don’t have any spare clothes for you. They’re in the kitchen.”
I just nodded and then let out a sigh.
“You should piss on it. Make the claim that it was you that killed it. You know, mark your territory. If I had the wolf, I’d being taking a big piss all over it right now,” said Nigel.
I slowly got to my feet and we made our way up one of the passages behind the dais. The old stone steps were carved right into the rock of the Earth. It had to have taken years to carve the steps that kept rising up through the ground. We came up in an old basement. Kegs of ale were lined against the wall. The floor was damp with water and there was another flight of wood steps that took us up into the local bar from the village. We looked through the window and saw the breaking dawn. Out in the street, the Monger followers were shedding their robes. Groups were hugging and crying, lamenting the loss of their sweet music. I grabbed a discarded robe and draped it over myself as we walked outside, and then through the throng of nude villagers. We spotted our van coming down the main street toward us. The teens had followed orders and come to the village. When they got out of the van 3 more teens ran from one of the stores and they all started hugging and crying too. They were the ones that were in the cage. They had all known each other.
Nigel pointed back at the villagers and said, “That’s a messed up bunch right there. You think they’ll cause any more problems?”
“Who knows? We killed the Bitch Monger and found out what happened to the people missing in the area. Let’s just take the van back to the house, get the video cameras and document everything in the cavern.”
“Then we get a beer.”
“Then we get a beer. But probably in another town,” I say as I turn away from the sad naked orgy of Bitch Monger cultists.