Night of the Werecat

by R. L. Stine

  * * *

  “How was the cat show, sweetie?” Wendy’s mother asked as Wendy entered the kitchen.

  “It was great.” Wendy let out a huge sigh. She flopped into a chair at the table. “I saw about a hundred cats that I wanted to bring home.”

  “You always want to bring cats home,” her mother teased with a warm smile. As she bent over the stove, her pale blond hair fell across her face.

  “Why can’t we have a cat?” Wendy began the familiar argument. “Why don’t you and Dad like them?”

  “It’s not that we don’t like them, Wendy,” her mother replied. “It’s that we don’t want them in the house. There’s a difference.”

  “What if we kept it outside?” Wendy continued.

  “Cats have a way of getting in,” Wendy’s mother said firmly.

  “Yeah,” Wendy’s older brother Brad agreed, strolling into the kitchen. Brad was a junior in high school. His hair was black, and lately he wore it in a ponytail. “Cats are sneaky,” Brad went on. “I’d rather have an armadillo.” He pulled a half gallon of milk from the refrigerator and drank from the carton.

  “Brad!” Wendy’s mother scolded.

  Wendy watched her brother sadly. Wendy remembered that Brad used to love cats as much as she did. But now he didn’t want one, either. Wendy was outnumbered. This was a battle she would never win.

  * * *

  Standing at her mirror that night, Wendy pulled the cat necklace out from under her shirt. She stroked the cool metal. I wish it were real, Wendy thought. I wish I really had a cat.

  She changed into her nightgown and crawled into bed. She patted the charm again. She thought of all the beautiful cats she had seen that day. Cats that would never be hers.

  At least I can dream about them, she thought as she fell asleep.

  Later that night Wendy woke up suddenly. A bright light shone through the window. She glanced at her bedside clock and noticed that it was one minute to midnight.

  What was that light? Wendy got up and peered through the window. She could see the moon rising through the old oak tree in the side yard.

  Weird, she thought. The moonlight never woke her up before. Was it always that bright? She started to climb back into bed when she felt a warm spot on her chest. She glanced down. The cat charm seemed to be glowing with a greenish inner light.

  She held it between her fingers, trying to get a better look at the glowing light. Her fingertips tingled where she touched the charm.

  What is going on? Wendy wondered.

  The tingling spread. From her fingers into her hands and up her arms. A strange itchy feeling moved down her back and chest, covering her whole body. She felt warm all over.

  I must be getting sick, she told herself. That’s it. I’m sick.

  But this didn’t feel like any flu or cold she had ever had before. Besides, Wendy didn’t feel sick, exactly. Just . . . peculiar. Then her fingertips began to ache. What would make that happen? she wondered.

  All ten of her fingers throbbed now. Her fingernails actually hurt. Puzzled, she held them up to her face.

  In the bright moonlight she could see that her fingernails were very long, much longer than she remembered them. How could they have grown so fast?

  Wendy’s heart began to beat faster. What’s happening to me?

  She took a closer look at her hands.

  Fear rose in her throat. Fear so strong it almost choked her.

  Sprouting from the tips of her fingers weren’t fingernails.

  They were long, sharp, curved claws.

  4

  “No!” Wendy whispered in horror.

  Wendy couldn’t tear her eyes away. She could see the claws grow longer. Her fingers started to shrink—becoming shorter and thicker. Her stomach churned as she watched long reddish-blond hair sprout on the backs of her hands.

  She tried to move her fingers but couldn’t. They had fused together. Her hands looked exactly like paws!

  Her whole body itched. She glanced down. Fur was growing on her arms, her legs, her chest. Everywhere!

  Her ears tickled. She reached up with her furry paws to touch them. Her ears were changing shape. And somehow they had moved to the top of her head.

  What is happening to me? Wendy thought. She shut her eyes, too terrified to watch the terrible changes taking place.

  She felt her face twist as her nose and mouth moved closer together. The inside of her mouth became dry and strange. She touched her teeth with her tongue. Her teeth were now sharp and pointed.

  “No!” she cried aloud. But this time the word came out as Noooooowwwww!

  Wendy’s heart pounded so hard she could hear it. She tried to sit up. Her balance was all wrong, and she fell off the bed. But instead of landing on her back, she landed on her feet—all four feet!

  Terrified, Wendy jumped up on her dresser and gazed into the mirror.

  She couldn’t believe it. This must be a dream.

  A cat gazed back at her.

  A tawny-colored cat with a white star on its forehead.

  Wendy turned her head. The cat in the mirror turned, too. When she lifted her hand, it lifted its front paw.

  It can’t be! Wendy thought. It can’t!

  But she knew the truth.

  The cat in the mirror was Wendy.

  Wendy was a cat.

  A cat with a white spot on its forehead.

  Mrs. Bast’s words echoed in her mind. “The white star is the mark of the werecat.”

  I’m a werecat! Wendy realized.

  The necklace she wore transformed into a tightly fitting silver collar with the metal werecat charm embedded in the front.

  I’m trapped! Wendy thought. What will I do?

  Her heart beat so quickly Wendy thought it might explode. She arched her back, watching the cat in the mirror arch, too. She glanced around, confused and frightened.

  And saw the open window.

  Suddenly Wendy felt as if invisible hands were pulling her to the window.

  Outside. I must go outside.

  Wendy bounded across the room and jumped up onto the windowsill. She gazed down at the yard two stories below. She glanced across at the old oak tree. Its largest branch was about three feet from the window.

  Without even thinking, she leaped out the window. She landed easily on the branch, her sharp claws grasping the rough bark. She scurried down the tree trunk.

  She was out!

  Wendy loped across the dewy grass. She could see better than she ever had in daylight. The moon cast sharp shadows in the corners of the yard. She tracked dozens of tiny insects, crawling in the grass or flying through the air.

  Her sharp ears picked up sounds all over the neighborhood. She heard dogs growling, babies crying, people snoring. She even heard the rustling of birds in their nests.

  Wendy leaped up and over the backyard wall, into the alley. Strange and delicious odors floated all around her. Mmmmmmm. A wonderful fish smell came from the next-door neighbor’s garbage can. She jumped onto the can and began pawing at the lid.

  Before she could pry open the lid, a movement at the end of the alley drew her attention. Wendy sniffed the air until a strong scent filled her nostrils. Her cat-senses told her it was the scent of a mouse.

  Forgetting about the fish, she leaped off the garbage can. She streaked to the corner, where the mouse vanished into a thick tangle of grass and weeds. Wendy wasn’t bothered by its disappearance. She knew exactly where it was. She could hear its footsteps. She could hear its faint squeak.

  Her mouth began to water.

  Wendy hunched down, then sprang. Her paws landed on the mouse’s tail. The creature pulled away. It scampered deeper into the grass. Wendy let it go. For the moment. She was still just playing with the little rodent.

  Wendy hunched down again. Again, she pounced. And once more the mouse was under her paws. But now Wendy was ready for the game to be over. She extended her claws, ready to bring them down on the mouse.

  S
KREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

  A terrifying high-pitched wail filled the night air.

  * * *

  Wendy sat up. The terrible noise in her ears was the alarm clock. She punched it off.

  She blinked a few times. Her mind was still full of her adventures as a cat.

  What a cool dream, she thought, stretching. And it seemed so real. She loved cats so much, it was natural she’d dream about being one!

  Wendy climbed out of bed and put on her jeans and a blue shirt with an orange cat on the front. She stood at her dresser mirror and admired the werecat charm hanging around her neck. But she couldn’t let her parents see that she had bought more cat jewelry. Not yet. She tucked the charm under her shirt.

  She stuffed her sandy hair into a yellow scrunchie. Then she kneeled down to pull her shoes out from under the bed.

  And stopped in horror.

  There, right beside her sneaker, lay a dead mouse.

  5

  “Yikes!” Wendy yelped. She yanked her hand back. Yuck! She’d almost touched it!

  Where did that mouse come from? she wondered. Was the dream real? Did I really turn into a werecat last night?

  Wendy giggled. Yeah, right, she teased herself. Now you really are being cat-crazy.

  She glanced at the mouse and shivered. How was she going to get rid of it? Just the thought of touching the mouse made her feel sick.

  Her door banged open.

  “Yo, Wendy!” Brad popped his head into her room. “You better move it if you want to ride with me to school.”

  “Uh, I’m almost ready,” she told her brother. “There’s just one thing. . . .”

  “What?” Brad stepped into the room.

  Wendy scrunched up her face and pointed to the dead mouse.

  Brad glanced at the animal, then laughed. “How did that get in here?”

  “I don’t know,” Wendy replied. “But get it out of here. Please!” She hoped her brother wouldn’t act like a jerk, for a change.

  “No problem,” Brad said. He crossed to the mouse and picked it up by the tail. Wendy’s eyes widened as she watched him lift it to his face. Brad opened his mouth as if he was going to pop it in. “Yum!” Brad said, smacking his lips. “Mousie for breakfast!”

  Wendy shrieked. “Gross!” she shouted.

  He dangled the mouse in front of her. “You didn’t really think I was going to eat it, did you?” he teased.

  Wendy glared at him in disgust. Brothers.

  Brad laughed, then headed back out to the hallway carrying the dead mouse. “Meet you downstairs,” he called over his shoulder.

  * * *

  “Ready for the gymnastics tryouts tomorrow?” Tina asked Wendy. They were changing from their leotards after Gymnastics Club.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Wendy answered. She gave her combination lock a final turn and yanked open the locker.

  “You’re really good,” Tina assured her. “I think you should make the team.”

  “Gosh, Wendy, I didn’t know you had a fan club,” said a familiar voice.

  Wendy spun around. Nancy stood right behind her. Sneering, as usual. Suddenly Nancy reached past Wendy into the locker. “Well, look what I found,” Nancy announced, holding up Wendy’s blue T-shirt. “Anyone lose something?”

  “Hey!” Wendy cried. “Give me that!”

  “Who could this belong to?” Nancy went on. She laid the T-shirt across her chest, revealing the orange cat on the front. “Now, who would want such an ugly cat on the front of her shirt?”

  “Cut it out, Nancy!” Tina yelled.

  “Give me my shirt!” Wendy grabbed for the T-shirt. But Nancy stepped back and jerked it out of reach.

  “Don’t you ever wear anything but cat clothes?” Nancy waved the blue shirt over her head.

  Wendy’s face felt hot with anger. She could sense that all the other girls in the locker room were watching her. “Give it to me now!” Wendy shouted. She lunged at Nancy.

  Nancy gave a fake shriek. “Oooh, don’t scratch me, kitty!” she cried. “I’ll give it back.” She wrinkled her nose and held the shirt in two fingers, as if it smelled. Then she flung it backward over her head. Right into the shower area. It landed in a puddle of water. “Whoops,” Nancy said. “Too bad. I hear cats hate water.” She laughed. Most of the other girls laughed, too. Then Nancy spun around and headed for the exit.

  “You’re going to get it, Nancy!” Tina yelled after her.

  Wendy picked up the shirt, fighting back tears. Why is Nancy always so mean to me? she thought. What have I ever done to her?

  “Come on, let’s just go,” Tina said. “We won’t let her ruin our Friday night!”

  Wendy borrowed a dry shirt from Tina, and they left the school. They always had a sleepover on Friday night. This week they were staying at Tina’s house. Tina’s mom always gave them hot chocolate and cookies before bed. Finally Wendy began to cheer up.

  * * *

  “Look at that cheetah!” Wendy exclaimed. “I can’t believe anything could run so fast!”

  “Awesome!” Tina said. “But my favorites are the tigers. They’re coming up in just a minute.”

  The girls were working on a school project about the big cats. They lay on the leather sofa in the family room, watching a new nature video.

  Tina’s parents had already gone to sleep. Wendy and Tina were both in their pajamas. The best part about sleepovers at Tina’s was that her parents let them stay up as late as they wanted. “As long as you let the rest of us get our beauty sleep,” Tina’s dad would joke.

  As Wendy watched the graceful cheetah on the screen, she thought of something. “Where’s Shalimar?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tina replied. Shalimar was Tina’s Siamese cat. He was a light tan all over, except for dark fur on his face, ears, tail, and paws.

  Wendy loved to play with Shalimar. And Shal loved Wendy. Usually, whenever she visited Tina, Shal crawled over her. It was almost as good as having her own cat. Almost.

  “You know, I haven’t seen Shal the whole time I’ve been here,” Wendy realized.

  “You’re right,” Tina agreed. “Maybe he accidentally got shut in the basement. Put the movie on pause, and I’ll go take a look.”

  Tina hopped off the sofa and Wendy clicked the remote. Then she lay back against the leather cushions. She gazed at the frozen image on the TV screen. A tiger in the video was suspended midair, all four of its legs stretched out in a graceful leap.

  I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than a cat, Wendy thought. Big or small.

  Wendy yawned. She glanced at the clock on the mantel and saw that it was nearly midnight. She never got to stay up this late at home. Wendy took a deep breath and stretched her arms over her head. As she dropped her hands back to her lap, she realized that her fingers had begun to ache.

  And then she remembered something. Something that scared her. Her fingers had ached last night, too. Right before her werecat dream.

  Don’t be silly, she scolded herself. It was just a dream. But her heart began to hammer as the ache in her fingers got worse.

  It didn’t happen, she insisted silently. Nothing happened.

  Her skin began to itch.

  I’m imagining things, she told herself. Trembling, she forced herself to look at her hands.

  Her heart stopped.

  Long tawny-colored hairs sprouted from her skin.

  She wasn’t imagining it.

  It was happening again.

  I’m turning into a cat, Wendy realized.

  A werecat!

  6

  No! Wendy thought. This can’t be happening!

  She sat straight up. The itching began to spread. Cat hairs sprouted all over her body.

  Stop! her mind shrieked. I don’t want to turn into a cat!

  She could feel her ears grow pointed. Her face began to twist. Her body started to shrink.

  Wendy opened her mouth as wide as she could, trying to force her face to
keep its human form. She tensed every muscle in her body. She clutched the leather sofa with all her strength. She had to stop the change!

  But there was nothing she could do. She was more than half cat already.

  It’s true! Last night wasn’t a dream after all Wendy gripped the sofa in terror. Her claws went right through the leather material.

  Oh, no! What did I do? She stared at the torn sofa, then tried to pull away. She was stuck! Wendy tried again to free her claws. She pulled and twisted. The leather ripped loudly.

  Still her claws were tangled in the leather. Finally, desperately, Wendy gave a sharp yank, and with another rrrrippp! her claws came free.

  She stood in the middle of the torn sofa, panting from fear and effort.

  “I can’t find Shal anywhere,” Tina’s voice called from the hallway.

  Tina! She couldn’t let Tina see her like this!

  Wendy leaped from the couch, streaked across the floor, and jumped out the open window.

  Just as they had been the night before, all her senses were super-sharp. The moon was nearly full, and its light shone bright as day to Wendy’s cat eyes.

  Tina’s going to wonder where I went, Wendy thought. But she had no choice. She couldn’t let Tina see what she had become.

  A wild animal.

  A werecat.

  Wendy’s cat instincts began to take over. Her eyes darted back and forth as she watched tiny insects flittering in the moonlight. From far off she heard the sounds of mice burrowing in the ground.

  The moon seemed to be calling to her—telling her to prowl. Wendy jumped up onto the fence that separated the backyards. She was eager to explore.

  Exciting smells filled her nostrils. Where should she go first? Should she follow the delicious scent of mouse? Or maybe she should play with the moths.

  An awful smell stopped her in her tracks. Dog! She glanced in the direction of the smell.

  One of Tina’s neighbors had a bulldog chained to a doghouse. Wendy perched above him for a moment. She knew him—he chased all the neighborhood cats. She dropped into the yard.

  Wendy arched her back and hissed. The dog barked and lunged for her, but he was yanked back by the chain attached to his collar. Wendy stood just outside his reach and calmly washed her paws with her rough tongue. Doesn’t the dopey dog know he can’t reach me? she thought. The dog went crazy. He looked silly, tugging at his chain. And he barked really loudly.