Anthony Francis - Frost Moon

And then he roared, more like a lion than a wolf, black fur erupting from his arms and spine, sharp cracks sounding like gunshots as the bones of his legs stretched and bent. His thighs and calves shortened as his feet lengthened, turning his ankle in to the backwards 'elbow' of a dog's leg. The bones of his face snapped and popped as a muzzle forced its way outward, and there were horrible ripping sounds as he fell to all fours and thrashed, fur and claw and bone erupting everywhere I could see. A rapid-fire succession of pops sounded as his spine bent and cracked upward. He grew larger, more powerful, and I felt wave after wave of mana wash over me, forcing me back against the wall.

"Don't move, for God's sake, don't move!" Cinnamon hissed. She dropped to a crouch at the entrance of the tunnel, fur rippling out over her own face, claws lengthening, snarling at the behemoth wolf that now stood before her. "Here, doggie, doggie, want a little treat?"

The great wolf snarled and leapt forward, and Cinnamon shot back into the tunnel. I twitched-I couldn't help it-and the wolf stopped, one golden eye fixed on me.

I froze, not making eye contact. The wolf padded up to me, growling, sniffing. It was huge, its shoulder coming well over my hip-and was perhaps the most beautiful animal I'd ever seen. Then it whined, a low, plaintive whine, and shook its head back and forth. It looked up at me, and the golden eyes had gone green and human. The wolf whined again, almost pleading-like Wulf was in there, somewhere, desperately trying to snap out of it.

Suddenly a whistling came from up the tunnel. "Hey, doggie doggie," Cinnamon cried. "Like to go chasing a cat?"

The human eyes vanished into a golden glare and the wolf snarled at me. With a supreme effort I remained still as it whipped away, down into the tunnel, howling and giving chase. Crashing sounds, running feet and clicking claws echoed back up the tunnel, and then the horrible scream of a cat in terror.

"Oh, God," I said, "what have I done?"

Terrified, I screwed up my courage and went after them. By the time I entered the tunnel, the running feet, snarling wolf and screeching cat were long gone. I had no idea what I would do when I found them; maybe there was something I could do with my tattoos? Or perhaps I could coax Wulf back to human-perhaps not with Cinnamon there; she was definitely an agent provocateur. But I had to try, damn it. I had to try.

Halfway down the tunnel my coat caught on a root projecting from the wall. I reached down to untangle it, but got only more caught up with the bony protrusion. I looked down, and was shocked by a familiar butterfly, flapping its wings against the black shadow of the "root" that had grabbed me. Shadows and mist clinging to the "root" dissipated like ripples on a pond, leaving Cinnamon standing there, her butterfly-tattooed hand holding me back, her other hand held to her lips as she looked down the tunnel, ears alert, eyes speculative.

"So much for the famed wolf sense of smell," she said.

"Damn, the Marquis is good," I said. Seeing her tattoos 'unhide' her really was like watching The Predator decloak. "You tell him that, next time you see him, you hear?"

"Sure," she said, still staring down the tunnel, ears twitching. "Okay, we're clear. Let's go see what we can do back at his place."

"Shouldn't we get the hell out of here?" I whispered, as a howl sounded down the tunnel. "Can't he hear us-"

"Nah, he's sweet on you, and his wolf too," Cinnamon said, heading back to the den. "If he was really after us, he'd be here tearin' us up. I just gave him something to chase to get him goin'- now he's gonna to go try to run himself out. We gots maybe an hour, and then the beast will run out of juice and come back here to change. We should be gone."

I nodded, but she didn't catch it, and looked back to glare at me. "I means it. We gotta be gone then, girlfriend or no. You didn't tell me he was a transy."

"A transy?" I said, bewildered. "Wulf is a transsexual?"

"No! He pops his cork on transit," she said, waving her long, tufted fingers over her head. "Most weres turns on the rise, but transies can hold off until zenith-when the full moon gets right overhead."

"The transit of the moon," I said, as we stepped back to the den. "Is it true what he said, that the moon rises an hour earlier every day? I'd never heard of that-"

"Cuz you're not a were," Cinnamon said. "More like forty-five minutes, but yeah. Anyways, the older a transy gets, the stronger their beast gets-and it gets liable to loose when the moon's directly at zenith, completely full or no." Cinnamon looked around, then looked at me. "So what's the plan? Leave your new boooyfriend a note with your number?"

"He already knows how to contact me," I said, picking up his fine Italian pants. They were worn, but I could feel how fine the fabric was, could imagine how good it once must have looked on his trim form. "I need a way to make him use it."

Cinnamon looked at the coat, then began looking around, examining the pillars around us. "Think this is Civil?" she asked. "Maybe a wall-off or something?"

"I dunno," I said, placing his folded pants and briefs back on his mattress, and turning to get his coat. Maybe leaving him a note wasn't a bad idea. I didn't think he'd take me up on it, but at least I could try. "You don't have any paper on you, do you?"

"Screw that," she said, staring at the ceiling, "I gots an idea. Call Calaphase."

"I don't see how he can help," I said, "and there's no way I'll get a signal-"

"This is a basement," she said, pointing up, "not a cave. We ain't that deep."

I raised an eyebrow, but pulled out my phone. One bar-it was worth a shot. So I dialed. A moment later, a low buzzing sounded in the cellar.

I looked up in shock to see Cinnamon pulling a cell phone from her vest. "Nicked it off him just the other day," she said, grinning, opening the phone and miming a deep, gruff voice. "Hello? Oh helloooo, Dakota! This is Wulfy-wulfy. Oh yeah, I'd love to go to the tat studio and get down your pants. I mean, get inked."

"Very funny," I said.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, fiddling with the phone. "Ok, your number's in. Gimme that," she said, taking the coat. She slipped the phone into his jacket pocket. "I don't see a change of, so he's gonna slip this back on-either tonight, or tomorrow. You can call him then."

"I got an even better idea," I said, fishing a receipt out of my wallet. "Why don't we leave him a phone and a note just in case he's got more clothes?"

After that, we hightailed it. We didn't hear any howling or any running feet, but the tunnels around us were still breathing, and Cinnamon swore she heard something moving in the dark that was neither man nor wolf, so we practically ran down to the landing and shoved off. Once in the water we took it more cautiously, until Cinnamon and I were both certain we were not going to get lost in the maze. When the tunnels started to widen out again and things looked more familiar, I poured a little more effort into the oars, trying to put more distance between us and Wulf s den.

Cinnamon leaned back in the bow, staring over her shoulder at the large vaulted tunnel that meant we were almost out of the water. "That went… well, I thinks."

"Thank you," I said. "And now I'm gonna be a big square and tell you to go back to the werehouse. It isn't safe."

"Can't I stay the night?" she whined. "I don't wanna run back to the werehouse in the middle of, 'specially not after I said you would take me for the day."

I scowled. "Okay," I said. "But I'll run you back to the werehouse in the morning, OK? Before anyone adds two and two. I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be AWOL. No joke-if you want them to keep letting you come over, you can't go busting their nuts."