Marked by the Wolf Box Set (Werewolf Romance)

by Mac Flynn

  The partiers transformed from the Wolves of Wall Street to just plain wolves. Their faces elongated and their hands lengthened into long, sharp claws. They tilted their heads back and let loose a horrible chorus of howls as their clothing tore from their bodies, replaced by thick coats of fur. They dove at those not transformed and pulled them to the ground. I couldn't see what was done to the others, but by the screams I didn't want to know.

  I stumbled back and saw the dark man toss the limp body of the man into the crowd. They caught him and pulled him into their midst, and I could hear the smacking of their lips and clacking of their jaws as they consumed his dead body. My back hit the rear wall and the dark man's eyes turned to me. They were no longer dark but yellow, and in their depths was a terrible hunger that could only be satisfied with my blood.

  I decided now was a good time to leave, and the perfect exit was their entrance. I raced down the stairs and heard a noise behind me. I turned in time to see the dark man lunge at me. With my eyes on him they weren't on the steps, and I missed the first one. It was a doozy that sent both of us flying forward. The dark man flew over my head, grazing my hair by a fraction of an inch. He landed on all fours five yards ahead of me. The door stood in the middle between us. I glared at him and he smirked back at me. His face stretched outward and his clothes ripped as he, too, became a wolf monster. I jumped for the door knob and he jumped for me.

  Then the lights went out. I heard a yelp from in front of me and the collision with the dark man never came. Howls and growls of confusion and terror came from the partiers. The few of those who remained alive of the line of normal people cried out for help, but I couldn't even help myself. Hell, I couldn't even see a foot in front of my face. I screamed when someone grabbed my arms. Their sharp teeth bit down hard on my neck. I expected them to drain me of my blood, but instead I was flung forward. My gut caught the knob and I fumbled for it.

  The door opened and showed it led into a long, brightly lit hallway. The light from the hall streamed into the dark party room, and I saw the dark man picking himself up off the floor. He was no longer a man, but a beast with a long snout full of sharp teeth. His pointed ears sat atop his head and his long, thin hands flexed his clawed fingers. Nothing remained of his clothing other than a bit of shirt and pants.

  I ducked inside just as he jumped at me and slammed the door behind him. His claws scratched at the area of the handle and I didn't stick around to see if this new dog could learn new trips. I dashed down the lit corridor, at the end of which was a pair of elevator doors. The door behind me opened and the clickity-clack of claws on linoleum echoed behind me. I pumped my pudgy arms and slammed into the button panel. The doors opened wish a swoosh and I raced inside.

  I swirled around and saw the werewolf pounding down the hall. Fifteen feet. Ten feet. I slammed my hand on the lowest floor available which was the farthest one from here. The doors shut just as the creature reached me, and his clawed hands dragged along the front of the doors.

  The elevator sped downward with the speed of a freight elevator. It soon hit bottom and the doors opened to reveal the parking garage. I stumbled out and saw the entrance to my right and around the elevator shaft. I rushed toward the noise and sights of the normal city, but the abnormal wasn't done with me.

  I was nearly at the opening to the garage when I heard a loud scratching noise from the stairwell. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a half dozen wolf things burst from the stairwell entrance. They sniffed the ground and one of their pair of yellow eyes turned toward me. My eyes widened and I looked ahead. Just a few more feet to freedom, but the feet behind me were so fast. My lungs ached and blood from my wound poured down my throat.

  I flew out into the busy street and nearly played in traffic. My luck changed when one of the cars that nearly hit me was an empty taxi. I threw myself over the hood. "Please help me!" I screamed.

  "Get off my car!" he yelled back.

  I stumbled around the side of the taxi and let myself in the front passenger side. "Drive!" I growled at him.

  His eyes widened, but he pressed down on the accelerator and away we flew. I glanced back at the parking garage and saw a half dozen disappointed shadows lingering at the edges. They weren't chasing me. I was free.

  Chapter 3

  I clutched my chest and slumped down in my seat. The driver, a man of about forty with clear eyes and thinning hair, glanced between the road and me. His angry expression changed to worry. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked me.

  "Bad date," I replied.

  He nodded at my wound. "You need me to call the cops? Looks like he tried to take a bite out of you," he commented.

  I shook my head and straightened. "No, I just want you to get me home. I don't have much money, but it should get me there," I told him.

  "I'll be glad to drive you to the hospital if you want. No charge," he offered. A free ride from a cabbie was like receiving free tuition from a university. Money was at stake, and they didn't usually part with it unless they were feeling generous.

  "No, I'll be fine. It's only a flesh wound," I assured him. At least, I hoped it was a flesh wound. The damn thing ached and burned, but when I moved I didn't feel any deep lacerations.

  "All right," he reluctantly agreed.

  I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't have him take me to the hospital. My fuzzy mind hadn't forgotten all those rich faces, and I suspected that if I went to any of the hospitals announcing my wound they'd be sure to find me. Right now they only had my name that I gave to Stanley. No address, no phone number, no place of work. I'd have to provide that at a hospital. Then it'd all be over for me. They'd use their rich connections to get a hold of me and it wouldn't matter how fine a job the hospital did on my shoulder. I'd be too dead to appreciate it.

  The cabbie drove me to my apartment, but put the car into park and shut off the engine. "You need me to help you up?" he offered.

  "No, I only live on the second floor," I replied. I stumbled from the car and over to the railing that led up the stoop to the door. My head ached, my shoulder ached, and I was feeling just plain shitty.

  I heard the cabbie step out of the vehicle and hurry over to me. His strong, kind hands wrapped around my shoulders. "Come on, miss, let's get you upstairs," he insisted.

  I was no longer in the mood to argue, so I had him help me to my apartment. Fortunately in the excitement I hadn't lost my key or any of my belongings in my pockets. He helped me inside and over to my couch where I gladly plopped myself down with a sigh.

  "Thanks," I murmured to him.

  "I'd rather you be thanking me at the hospital," he replied.

  I smiled. "Maybe next time." I pulled out a wad of cash for the trip, but he shook his head.

  "This one's on me." He pulled out a card and handed it to me. It had his name, his cab number, and a phone number. Roger Donavon was the name. "And if you need that ride to the hospital call me. I'll come get you."

  "Thanks. Really," I told him.

  He smiled, bowed his head, and left. I sat on the couch for a few minutes until the uncomfortable feel of cold, dried blood in my clothes and on my skin forced me to the bathroom. I flicked on the light and cringed when I saw how ghastly was the damage. My shirt was torn and blood was splattered from my neck to my lower arm. Two sharp teeth marks showed where the monster had bitten me, and for a moment I wondered if I had allowed myself to be led into a den of vampires.

  No, vampires didn't look like wolves. At least, not always. Those people, those things, were completely wolfy, no showing off large fangs and blood-red eyes. I hated to admit it to myself, but if I was a believer in the supernatural I'd say those things had been werewolves. Werewolves who had a wonderful sense of fashion.

  Yeah, um, no. There was no such thing as a werewolf. What I saw was a figment of my imagination brought on by the strain of seeing people tear each other apart. Maybe those murderers donned masks and clawed gloves when I wasn't looking. Maybe they were some sort of a cult
who worshiped the wolf and go mad every two years, binging on the blood of strangers.

  Or maybe I was in complete denial because no human I knew could make that deep a teeth marks without leaving more than two imprints. I clutched my head in one hand and groaned. This was a hell of a Wednesday night, and I still had two more days of work to get through. Right then I felt shitty enough to excuse myself from the living, but I promised myself that if there wasn't any improvement I'd call in sick.

  I cleaned up the blood, patched the wounds as best I could with a box of assortment band-aids, and tossed my clothes into the trash. All of them. I didn't want to remember this night for as long as I lived, if I lived that long. I dragged my aching, exhausted body into my bed and before I knew what happened I was asleep.

  The day came all too early. My alarm rang the time as seven and my eyes creaked open. I was still alive, or as alive as I ever felt at this hour in the morning. My fingers fumbled for the alarm and when I found it I slammed my hand down on the off button. The little machine crunched beneath my power. I raised my head and blinked at the ruined alarm. It looked like I'd used a sledgehammer on it. Its round shape was now pancake.

  I sat up and glanced between my palm and the clock. My dainty little fingers waved back at me, innocent of the destruction they just caused. I shrugged and stood. A sudden lightheadedness swept over me and I steadied myself against the wall beside my bed. I felt like I'd lost a gallon of blood. That brought on a flurry of memories from last night that rushed into my frazzled brain.

  Stanley, the party, the wolf people, my wound, and my escape. They all mixed into a terrible cocktail of horror that forced me to sit back down on my bed. I clutched my head and shut my eyes hard to block out the images. I wanted it all to be a dream, some terrible nightmare of my stupidity for going with a stranger. My mind, and the patchwork of band-aids on my neck, told me otherwise.

  There was one definitive way to prove it hadn't been a dream. I stumbled to my bathroom and looked at the myself in the mirror. My face was pale and there were dark circles under my eyes. I tilted my head to one side and my eyes glanced over all those band-aids. I raised on trembling finger and yanked the whole thing off in one go. A few hairs went with the pull, but I didn't pay them any mind. What I was focused on was my skin. My perfectly healed skin.

  Gone were the two torn holes with their ragged edges. In their places was a pair of scars that looked like they'd been there for years. I reached up and touched the scars. They were as smooth as the rest of my skin, though there was a slight ache in my shoulder. I tapped my fingers against my shoulder not believing what I was seeing, but the scars remained. My mind couldn't grasp what had happened. First wounds, then the next day scars. This shouldn't be happening.

  I stumbled out of the bathroom and leaned against the door frame. From my vantage point I could see the large kitchen trash. Bloody clothes stared back at me. God damn it, it hadn't been a dream, but what the hell was with the wounds-turned-scars? How the hell did that happen?

  I needed to get to work. I needed to get away from my bathroom mirror, those bloody clothes, and anything else that reminded me of last night. Work would numb my brain and keep me from thinking about all this stuff that didn't make any sense.

  I hurried into my clothes and was out the door in record time. The time was twenty minutes before I needed to leave, but I didn't care. I hurried outside, caught the first bus I could find, and breathed a sigh of relief when my apartment building disappeared from view around the first corner. I arrived at the office just as early and snuck into my cubicle.

  Not sneaky or early enough because Johnny stepped into my doorway a minute later. He looked me over and raised an eyebrow. "You look like something the cat dragged in," he complimented.

  "More like wolf," I muttered.

  "What was that?" he asked me.

  "I said I had a late night," I rephrased.

  "So late that you decided to come into work early?" he returned.

  I shrugged and slouched in my chair. "Didn't want to stay in my apartment alone," I told him.

  "So you heard about what happened last night?" he guessed.

  My heart skipped a beat. I whipped my head up and frowned at him. "No, what happened last night?"

  "It's on all the news stations, and in all the papers," he replied.

  I straightened and my frown turned to a glare. My voice was harsher than I meant it to sound, and more impatience. "I don't watch or read news, so just tell me what happened," I insisted.

  "It seems like some cult or something killed a bunch of people and were tossing them into the incinerator at the city trash facility. They were only found out because they were still tossing the bodies in when the security shifts changed and one of the new guys spotted the people on the cameras. He couldn't see their faces because they were all wearing wolf masks and they ran away when he told them to freeze. Ran real fast, too, like wolves, he's claiming," Johnny explained. "The cult guys left behind a few bodies, so police were called. They questioned the previous security shift, but nobody could tell how those people got in with as many bodies as they must have been tossing into the incinerator. They found a half dozen all chewed up and torn apart. Another few minutes and they would have gotten away with destroying the other ones. Must have been bad luck for them having the shifts change like that."

  It wasn't bad luck, it was me, or at least my escape. They'd probably been searching for me all night throughout the city and didn't have much time to dispose of the bodies. Maybe they were searching for me now so they could incinerator me, or worse.

  I shuddered. Suddenly I wasn't feeling so well. "Hey, you okay?" Johnny asked me. He grasped my shoulders, but I flinched and pushed him away.

  My instincts told me to run, to hide. That meant my apartment. I'd hide out there until I could figure out what to do. "I-I'm fine, I'm just not feeling well. I think I'll go home," I told him.

  Chapter 4

  I pushed past him and hurried to the elevators. In a few minutes I was in a taxi and was on my way home. The buildings passed by in blurs as my mind reeled with Johnny's news. The dead bodies, all those people. I wondered if anybody else had survived, if anybody else could corroborate my terrifying story.

  My mind took a break from panicking and glanced out the window. A police station was coming up. I straightened and a smile slid onto my lips. They could protect me! They could make sure my story got out and everybody knew what monsters lurked on Wall Street. They weren't vampires, but werewolves!

  "Pull over here," I ordered the cabbie.

  I hurried out and up the stairs that led to the precinct. Through the doors was a madhouse of suspect processing, witness testimony-taking, and general paperwork pushing. A waiting room of sorts was at the front with wooden benches on either side against the walls. The benches were crowded, and a long desk separated the general population from the work of the police. Behind the desk were a few officers seated on stools who were speaking with two women of middle-aged who wore frowns as deep as the scars on my neck. The officers alternated between writing notes on a paper and glancing lazily up at the two women.

  I hurried up to the desk and leaned over the counter. "I have to speak to someone," I told one of the officers.

  He pointed to one of the benches and a ticket taker. "Wait in line until your number is called," he commanded.

  "Officer, what are you going to do about our missing dog?" one of the women asked the policeman.

  "As I told you before we don't handle missing pets. Ask the humane society," the officer told her.

  "Please let me speak to an officer! They might be coming after me at this very minute!" I insisted.

  The women sneered at me. "Nothing you have to say can be as important as our Fluffy-kins," one of them argued.

  I snarled back at her, curling lips and all. Her eyes widened and she slid away from me, taking her friend with her. With the desk clear I slid to the center position, but the officer resumed his paper writing. "P
lease let me see somebody. It's about what happened to those people last night. The people who were killed by that cult," I told him.

  The officer paused in his writing and glanced up from his paper. "Are you serious?" he asked me.

  "Would I be here if I wasn't serious?" I asked him. His eyes wandered past me and I turned to see a clown walk in with handcuffs on his wrists. I looked back to the officer. "I'm not clowning around here, this is serious. I have some important info on the people who murdered those other guys. I know what some of them looked like."

  "All right, let me get you the lieutenant in charge of the case," he offered.

  The officer slid off his stool and hurried to one of the office doors that lined the left side of the precinct. In a moment he was back with another man, a burly fellow with a bright, cheerful smile. The new man held out his hand to me. "Good morning, my name's Lieutenant Goodman. Officer Peabody here tells me you have some information for me," he commented.

  I shook his hand and glanced around. "Yeah, but could we speak someplace else?" I requested.

  "Certainly. Just follow me." He led me around the counter and through the jungle of desks to the rear of the building.

  At the rear were two hallways, and he gently guided me ahead of him down the left-hand one. At the end of the hallway stood an Exit door. One either side of the hallway were doors labeled with plates, and on those plates were names like Interrogation and Lab.

  As we strolled down the hall Lieutenant Goodman pulled out a pad and paper"What's your name?" he asked me.

  "Danica Lyman," I replied.

  He wrote down the info. "Address?"

  "I'd rather say that in the room if you don't mind," I told him.

  "That's fine. Where do you work?" he wondered.

  I gave him the info, but felt there was something wrong with this. I expected him to stop us at one of the Interrogation rooms, but he guided us toward the Exit door. Something didn't feel right about this. "Um, where are we going?" I asked him.