“Michele! Stay with me!” George watched in horror as her index finger grew by at least half an inch, and the fingernail changed shape, becoming more like a talon.
“Michele, pray to Zeus!” Ivan said. “Accept Buddha as your one and only savior! Fight it! Fight it! Go team go!”
George wanted to punch him in the face, but had to satisfy himself with an earlier memory of punching Ivan in the face. He scooted a little closer to Michele, though he kept himself a cautious arm-length away. “You have to listen to me. Ivan retains full consciousness when he changes. He doesn’t become an animal. He’s had more practice, but you’re a lot stronger than that little shit! There’s nothing he can do that you can’t do better!”
“Leave me alone, both of you!” Michele screamed. Her low, distorted voice sounded like she’d been possessed by a demon. It was almost more unnerving than the way her fangs now protruded from her mouth.
“You heard her, George. Obey the lady’s wishes.” He chuckled. “I am so very glad you’re in that cage and not me.”
“Michele--”
“Enough!” She let out a long, piercing scream and began to rip at her hair. As her scream went on and on and on, George realized that Ivan was right; she was most definitely not going to be able to fight this.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Desire To Feed
Michele’s entire body was on fire.
Her vision was red.
She thought her flesh was going to blister and split open, sending bursts of hellfire throughout the world.
She wanted to die.
She wanted to live.
What was happening to her? Was that George? Why was she in a cage? Why was he with her? Were they lovers?
The pain was blinding.
She could feel the blood rushing through her head.
Her bones were breaking inside of her body.
“Michele...?”
She couldn’t tell who said that. Dad?
Why did her arms look like that? Were they hers? Whose were they?
Why did her teeth hurt so much?
Who was Michele?
She wanted to die.
She wanted to live.
She wanted to kill.
* * *
Ivan bit the inside of his cheek and tasted the coppery blood. He hated this. Hated losing control. Oh, he still had every intention of taking George somewhere nice and private, and destroying his body one square inch at a time. But he’d completely lost control of the situation. And if he had to abandon the van, he’d have to postpone his revenge, and possibly lose George to Michele’s newfound ravenous hunger.
That was bullshit.
He wondered why there weren’t any choppers in the air. If the news was reporting the path he’d taken, why wasn’t there a police helicopter overhead searching for him?
He wasn’t going to be able to easily back the van around this upcoming corner. He’d either have to take it really slow, or risk going off the path and getting the van stuck. Damn it.
Ivan slammed on the brakes as a white van came into view. As he saw that Lou was driving, he transformed his hand into a claw and raked his talons across the passenger seat, howling in fury even though the rest of his body remained human.
Now he had no choice. He had to cut his losses.
* * *
Lou stopped his van just a few feet away from the other one. Though he couldn’t see who was inside, he assumed it was Ivan driving.
Prescott and Angie had taken all of the silver-tipped bolts with them, but Lou had placed several grenades on the seat, ready to go. Even if it didn’t kill him, a blown-off leg would certainly slow down the werewolf.
Ivan got out of the van, transformed into a full wolfman, and darted off into the trees.
Lou got out as well, a grenade in each hand. He pulled the pin from the first one, and heaved it toward where Ivan had run. It was a good throw. Unfortunately, the blast was not accompanied by a lycanthrope scream.
He’d save the other one.
Lou hurried to the front of the van, as quickly as he was able, and peeked inside. The passenger seat was empty. George was in the cage with Michele, who was flailing around and tearing at her hair.
“Get me out of here!” George shouted. “Hurry!”
“Jesus.” Lou limped to the rear of the van and threw open the back doors. What was wrong with her?
From this angle, it was obvious: she was half wolf.
“Unlock the cage! Unlock the cage!”
Michele ripped out a huge chunk of her hair, exposing bloody scalp underneath.
Lou tugged on the cage door. “Does Ivan have the key?”
“I don’t know! Go find it!”
Michele pounced upon George. He cried out and tried to fend her off. She mounted him like a lover, slicing at him with her new claws.
“Push her over here!” Lou said. “I’ll get her!”
“Find the keys!”
Lou went back to the driver’s seat, praying that the keys were dangling from the ignition. They weren’t. Ivan had them.
He fought off a momentary dizzy spell. The loss of blood was really starting to get to him.
* * *
“Fight it!” George shouted as Michele raked her claws across his chest. He didn’t expect this to work anymore, but it was certainly better than shouting something like “Get off of me!” He punched her in the chin. Her head flew back, almost dipping back far enough that it looked like she had no neck, and then it snapped back into place.
George could see the fur sprouting all over her arms and legs. The bandage fell off her shoulder, revealing no trace of a wound underneath.
“Ivan has the keys!” Lou shouted. “Get her over on this side! I’ll take care of her!”
George threw another punch but she blocked it. Though she was a werewolf now, she was still smaller than him, and he shoved her off of him. She hit the bottom of the cage, snarled, and bit at his arm. He pulled away.
Oh, God, don’t let her bite me. I don’t want to become something like that.
What a horrible fate. Better to die at Ivan’s claws, with some degree of honor, than to become a drooling, snarling beast and have to be put down like an animal.
He screamed as she bit him.
* * *
Lou couldn’t believe how much he was being forced to move around with injuries like his. He went back to the van, climbed inside, and slammed his foot through an opening in the bars, kicking Michele in the head as she bit George on the arm.
Her mouth popped free. George had a red mark but it didn’t look like she’d broken the skin.
Now she was out of Lou’s range. He turned his attention away from the cage and opened the glove compartment. He grabbed a handful of the contents and tossed them onto the floor, flipping through random papers until he found several of them fastened together by a paper clip.
He pulled off the paper clip and began to unbend it as he returned to the back of the van.
* * *
She was almost fully transformed now--or at least appeared to be, since George had no idea how far this was going to go. She seemed to be more of a traditional wolf form than Ivan was in his changed state.
He didn’t bother asking her to fight it anymore.
Her claws sunk into his shoulder, deep, the same shoulder he’d dislocated. He grabbed her chin and slammed her head against the roof of the cage. That didn’t seem to rattle her.
* * *
Lou jammed the paper clip into the lock and jiggled it. He wasn’t very good with locks. When necessary, that was usually George’s job.
He had the grenades, but they were fragmentation grenades. They wouldn’t blow the door off a thick steel cage like this. If the paper clip didn’t work, he’d try to shoot it.
He jammed the paper clip in deeper, as George and Michele struggled, her jaws snapping shut over his face. He slammed her head against the top of the cage again, then a third time, and though it seemed to be helping she still had a hell of a lot of fight left in her.
Lou’s spirits soared as he thought he heard a click, but he tugged on the cage door and it didn’t budge. False alarm. He continued to wiggle the paper clip around in the lock, having no idea what he was doing but hoping that he’d luck out. He prayed to every god that he could think of that he’d get this right.