Marcus Pelegrimas - Howling Legion

Jason was never good at guy talk. He knew the basics, but couldn’t commit enough to the subtle banalities to be truly fluent in the language.

“She’s been kicking my ass,” Cole grumbled.

“I hear you, man. Women.”

“I’m going to stop you before you try to call me bro.”

“That’s probably for the best.” Jason shifted enough to make his chair squeak and then said, “The e-mail just arrived. It looks like some good stuff. Your old job is waiting for you whenever you decide to come back to Seattle, but don’t take advantage of our friendship. Another Hammer Paint fiasco will sink our download division for good.”

“Read through everything I sent you. If you still want to scold me after that, I’ll bend over and take it like a good cell mate.”

Kansas City University of Medicine Kansas City, Missouri

Lisa Wilson knew better than to walk by herself at night. Not only had her parents drummed that into her head ever since she was young enough to have strangers offer her candy, but she had enough common sense to avoid certain spots after the streetlights came on.

She’d enrolled in the University of Medicine because it was located in a section of town she knew well and, thanks to a few student loans and a partial scholarship, the tuition was within her range. The little apartment she shared with a roommate was a short walk from the university on Highland Avenue, and Lisa knew how to get there without straying into any danger zones.

There were always some potheads hanging out near the buildings between school and home, but they were more hungry than harmful. A few bums shuffled across the street, and Lisa smiled at the dirty, familiar faces. That smile faded a bit when she pointed it at a man slouched against a light pole bordering the parking lot where she kept her red Nissan. The man sat with his skinny legs bent and his lanky arms resting upon his knees. His back was against the pole and the color of his skin made it look as if he’d spent a lot of time under a rock. Lisa politely turned away from him and kept walking.

“Hey,” the man shouted in a guttural English accent. “Got time for a chat?”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and kept moving. Between the Jehovah Witnesses, Mormons, and countless other religious salesmen roaming the apartment complexes near the university, she’d gotten lots of practice in the art of courteous apathy.

“Hey!”

The sound cut through the air like a shovel that had been swung at the back of her head. It stopped her in her tracks and got her heart racing within her chest. She turned to see what the man was doing and found him standing upright with his back to the light pole, watching her silently. His gleaming eyes looked vaguely attractive, but were framed by a sunken face and a leering smile.

Suddenly, Lisa was very aware of what she was wearing. It was hot and humid, but perhaps the denim shorts she’d chosen were too short. Maybe she’d been stupid to make the walk to her apartment wearing the Kansas City Chiefs shirt that barely made it down to her waist. If she moved in the slightest, her bare belly could be seen, along with the little shamrock tattoo she’d gotten over the last spring break. Nervously fidgeting with her short, light brown hair, she almost ran away. Then she spotted a few of her friends gathered around a white pickup in the nearby parking lot. One of them was a big sports medicine major named Ryan. The other guy was Ryan’s roommate, and he was with a tattooed girl who carried pepper spray in her purse.

“Come here, girlie,” the skinny man by the light pole said. “I got somethin’ for ya.”

She might have been nervous, but she wasn’t going to be abused by some freak on the street. As much as she wanted to give the guy a swift kick, she knew better than to go near him. Instead, she dismissed him with a backward wave and hurried toward her apartment building. “Whatever!”

“What’s the matter, dude? Couldn’t find any hookers to yell at?”

Lisa glanced over her shoulder to find Ryan strutting toward the English accent freak in typical macho fashion: chest puffed and arms out. She did not usually find that sort of thing appealing, but it was more than welcome now.

“You wanna yell at someone?” Ryan asked. “How about you yell at me?”

Lisa turned around to ask Ryan to walk her to her place. The freak looked even bigger and bulkier now that he was standing up straight. He reached out to grab Ryan’s arm, then pulled it from its socket with a loud crunch. Ryan let out a high-pitched scream, which was immediately washed away by a wail from the freak that seemed like a primal mockery of the younger man’s pain.

The man was even larger than he’d been a second ago, and his clothes were suddenly consumed by a coat of black fur that spewed from his skin. His cheeks were still sunken, but he’d grown a long snout and pointed ears that were flattened in a way far more menacing than Ryan’s puffed chest. The creature that had once been the freakish man opened its mouth and let out a rasping gurgle that almost matched the sound Ryan made after his throat was torn open.

The fatal motion had been so quick that Lisa barely saw it. The creature pulled Ryan closer and then swiped its claws under his chin to send a bloody spray through the air. Once that was done, the only thing left for Ryan to do was bleed. All the while, the creature hacked as if gagging on his own drool.

“Your turn…little lady.”

It leaned forward to step toward her, stretching both arms out before dropping onto all fours. By the time it started running at her, the thing had shifted into a hulking animal with the frame of a wolf but the mass of a bear.

A blanket of cold fear dropped onto Lisa’s shoulders. One of the guys in the parking lot was yelling something but seemed unable to do much else. The girl with the tattoos was fumbling with her cell phone, so Lisa turned and ran.

Highland Avenue felt crooked beneath her feet. Her breath came in quick, frantic gulps. Her ears filled with the churning of the air and the pounding of her heart. When she got to her apartment building, she stuck her hand in her pocket to fish out her key.

If she made it just a little farther, the thick metal of her front door might hold the thing back until the cops could get there. Surely, her friend in the parking lot was calling for help.

The footsteps padding against the concrete behind her seemed light and heavy at the same time, brushing and stomping the ground in a rhythm that blended almost seamlessly with the panicked chorus inside her own body. Little cries fluttered at the top of her windpipe. A strained wheeze rattled within her chest as something pounded against her back.

Then Lisa was shoved face first to the sidewalk as though she hadn’t even been moving. When she tried to crawl away, all she could do was scrape her fingers against the cracked cement and kick one leg against the ground. Her other leg had crumpled beneath her, snapping in three places. Before she could wrap her mind around that, bony spikes stabbed through her shoulder.

The werewolf picked Lisa up as gently as his current form would allow and carried her away so only her heels brushed against the cement. Cars sped toward him, but the creature warned them away by curling his lips up to bare the teeth that were halfway sunken into Lisa’s shoulder. Driving his fangs in deeper and holding her with them, he crouched down and launched himself into the air. Another couple of jumps put a few blocks between himself and Ryan’s bloody remains. The screams were quickly left behind in the short time it took for the creature to find a nice quiet spot at the easternmost end of North Terrace Park.