by Marva Dasef
“Let’s see what he wants,” Tain said to the guard.
Shia jumped from her perch to follow.
“No, my love,” he continued, “humans are usually afraid of wolves. We don’t want to startle him. Who knows how he might react?”
“Very well,” she answered, “I’ll go upstairs and not show myself.” She trotted up the stairs as Tain watched her leave.
Tain and the guard walked out to the gate to greet the mysterious visitor.
“Hello, the castle,” the robe-draped man called out from across the bridge. Tain gestured to the servants, who lowered the bridge and raised the portcullis.
The man approached and then gave a brief bow.
“Lord Tain, I presume.”
“You presume correctly. I don’t wish to appear inhospitable, but we’ve had nothing but trouble from your kind. Who are you? What do you want?”
“I fully understand your feelings, Lord Tain. I’d heard about what had happened here and I felt that I needed to do something. The Wizard who cursed your valley was a...relative. I feel some familial responsibility.”
The man continued, “I am Vedor, also a wizard, but not, shall we say, as excitable as my relative. I mean no harm. On the contrary, I hope I can help.”
“I am listening,” Tain said slowly as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“I believe I know the spell used, and I think I can reverse it.”
“That’s good news, but how do we know we can trust what you say?” Tain responded, suspicious of humans, especially those bearing gifts.
“I can show you. I’ve studied this matter for several years. While I can’t break the spell as it stands—only the original spell caster can do that—I can form a counter spell that would have the same effect.”
Tain considered a moment. “We’ll go to the valley folk with your proposal. If they agree, then you can cast the spell. I’ll call a gathering for this afternoon. Meanwhile, you can stay here.”
Vedor followed Tain into the keep. Tain called his servants and sent them across the valley to announce the meeting in the village.
Tain and Vedor went into the hall. “Would you eat?” Tain asked. Now that the man was his guest, he must treat him as such.
Vedor surveyed the remains of the breakfast still at the table. His eyes widened when he saw the bloody haunch, then nodded his head as if confirming something to himself.
“No, thank you. I had a meal on the trail. If I could just have a place to rest for a while, that is all I’ll need.”
Tain gestured to a servant, who led Vedor up the stairs to the guest rooms. With a glance, Tain sent a guard to stand outside the wizard’s door. Shia watched for the man’s passing, then rejoined Tain in the hall.
After he recounted what the man offered, Shia was as dubious as Tain. Still, it would thrill her to rid Tain of his nightly agony of transformation. She loved Tain with all her heart and anything that helped him was fine with her.
* * *
That afternoon, Vedor came into the hall, stopping short when he saw Shia sitting on her haunches conversing with Tain.
“Ah, Vedor,” Tain said as he spied the man, “this is Shia. She is no danger to you. Don’t be afraid.”
“A tame wolf is unusual,” Vedor said, without fear in his voice.
“I assure you, I am quite civilized,” Shia answered him. Vedor nodded slowly, accepting that this was another aspect of the spell.
“The time for the meeting approaches. Let’s leave for the village,” Tain said. Attending the meeting were all of the castle’s inhabitants, as they too suffered from the same affliction giving them the right to vote on the wizard’s proposal.
Nearly every citizen of the valley gathered in the village square—centaurs, satyrs, sphinxes came, even the harpies sat in the trees. They listened carefully to Vedor’s offer, then a few argued either for or against the proposal. At the end, however, the valley folk agreed that any chance of ending the curse would be best for all.
“All of you, go to your homes to wait for your change,” Tain commanded.
“Tonight, just as the sun sets and you are changing to your night forms, I’ll cast the spell that will return you to your natural forms,” Vedor announced.
Later, as the sun lowered behind the western hills, Tain began to feel the effect of the change.
“Do it quickly, Vedor. As a werewolf, I am very dangerous,” Tain said in a rough voice lowering into a growl as he began to change.
Vedor already set out his magical supplies and completed almost the entire spell; the finishing incantation to be said just as the changes commenced.
“Causilius animalius,” Vedor said, sprinkling a bit of dust about him.
“Ananimalius causilius,” he recited the next phrase.
“Reverto, reverto, reverto,” he finished and dashed the last of the dust to the ground. A mist rose up around them.
Tain felt his body changing, but this time it was the familiar change from werewolf to centaur. As his arms grew and his fangs shrank into teeth, he felt elated. The nightmare would soon be over.
The mists crept back and Tain stood in his full centauran form. He laughed and felt his body to find he was normal again.
“Shia,” he called, “my beloved, the spell worked!”
Shia crouched, snarling and backing into a corner. Her fangs were bared and eyes glinted with fear and hate. She leapt past Tain and ran from the castle keep.
Tain looked with confusion at Vedor. “What happened?” he said, his voice shaking.
“All of the valley’s folk were changed back to their true forms. The only reason that your she-wolf could think and speak was the influence of this valley’s magic. In any other place, she’d simply be a wolf–wild, savage, and unthinking. The counter spell returned her to her true wolf form.”
Vedor shook his head sadly, then continued, “Of course, my father knew that would happen and I knew it from his writings. It took me ten years to find the right way to avenge his death.” Vedor threw a handful of magical dust which froze Tain in place.
He then spoke an incantation and drew runes upon the ground. He slowly disappeared, laughing at Tain’s stricken expression.
As the freezing spell dissipated, rage replaced Tain’s grief. Once he was free, the hunt for the wizard would begin.
Big Bessie’s Place
Humor
Originally published in Green Silk Journal
The phrase “the joint was ajumpin’” described Big Bessie’s place to a T. A jukebox on the back wall was blasting out big band swing. A few couples were jive dancing in a small open area in front of the juke. Everybody was talking loud and laughing. Some were clapping their hands to the beat of Benny Goodman’s ‘Sing Sing Sing,’ with Gene Krupa waling away on the drums.
Marilyn worked at Big Bessie’s and was mighty glad she did. The place was fun, and Bessie was a good boss. Bessie didn’t take any guff, but she was always fair, treating her staff better than most bosses. Marilyn got pretty good tips and Bessie always made sure the staff had a full meal on her tab before they left the place.
The jukebox finished up with Goodman and started a slow number, Bessie Smith singing ‘Careless Love Blues’. A few people hooted; they wanted the fast music. The couples who were dancing thought it was good to take a break and slow down a bit. Marilyn turned down the lights as the music slowed. The customers liked some atmosphere. The remaining couple pressed together, the woman laying her head on her partner’s shoulder. The man started rubbing his right hand down the woman’s flank, finally gripping her left buttock as he nuzzled her neck. The woman started to grind her hips against the man. They seemed lost in their own little world, ignoring everybody around them.
Marilyn glanced over at the couple and decided to keep an eye on them. They were getting more friendly than Big Bessie liked her customers to be. True, Big Bessie’s café was a “jivin’ and jumpin’ joint,” as Big Bessie said in her ads, but she didn’t stand for a
ny drugs or drunks, and certainly no bad behavior.
Bessie would be back at ten o’clock, and she would would not be happy if she walked in on that. She would be especially p-o’ed that the couple were Tess and Harry, the day manager and another waitress. Marilyn wondered exactly what they were thinking. They knew Bessie’s rules, and they were obviously making a big point of ignoring them.
Marilyn waved at them, hoping they’d see her and take the hint. But they were oblivious, as they continued with what was appearing to be a fully-clothed sex act. Customers were starting to take notice. Some grinned and nudged their friends to take a look. A few looked away in disgust at the display.
The front door opened and Marilyn held her breath. The aspect of Big Bessie loomed in the door. Steam was streaming from her nose (and maybe her ears). Marilyn cringed and waited for the blow up.
Big Bessie lived up to the ‘big’ part of her name. The huge woman was over six feet tall and tipped the scales at close to four hundred pounds. She’d been known to take down two drunk men with a single blow. The whole neighborhood knew Bessie and respected the woman. Big heart, big hands, big foot when needed to kick sense into anyone breaking her rules. Tess and Harry didn’t notice the boss woman’s entrance. Everyone else in the room straightened up quickly, and shut their mouths. They knew what might be coming and they didn’t want to miss a thing.
Bessie stalked over to the jukebox and slammed one huge and meaty hand down on the top. The sound of a scratching record followed by a boinging sound brought the music to a halt. Finally, Harry and Tess realized something was wrong and looked around. When they saw Bessie, they jumped apart like they’d been zapped by a high voltage wire.
Big Bessie glared down at them, her fists parked on her wide hips, arms akimbo.
“And just what do you two think you’re doin’?” Bessie rumbled. “You know I don’t truck with that kind of behavior.” She blew steam from her nose and now Marilyn actually thought she could see smoke pouring from Bessie’s ears.
Bessie stomped one huge foot forward, then the other. The floor shook and coffee cups rattled on the shelves. The crowd gasped, but held stock still waiting to see what happened next.
Tess and Harry started to quiver. Harry took a sliding step to the left in the futile hope that he might escape the wrath of Bessie. She stuck out one big hand and grabbed him by his collar. She slid him back to where he started without his feet leaving the floor. Sheer terror showed in his eyes. He said, “Mm, hmm, ah, mmm,” then gave up when no actual words came out.
Tess hung her head and studied her feet with great intensity. “Sorry, Bessie,” her voice quivered. Her knees buckled, and she slumped to the floor. Bessie reached out with her other meaty hand, the one not gripping Harry, and pulled Tess back up.
Bessie slowly raised both arms until Tess and Harry were dangling from her huge fists, feet barely touching the floor. The crowd watched rapt and held their breath. Would she throw them down and stomp them to a puddle on the floor?
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Big Bessie shook her head. “Don’t you two have any manners at all?” She raised them a few inches higher until they were both on tiptoes. “Now, you two apologize to ever’body here.”
“Yes, ma’am, Bessie, ma’am,” Harry sobbed. He managed to turn his head to the right far enough to see most of the people and said, “I’m truly sorry. I apologize.” Bessie dropped him and he crumpled to the floor. He quickly got up on his hands and knees and scooted out of Bessie’s reach.
Tess saw her chance and spoke up, “Me too. I’m really sorry.” Bessie dropped her as well. Tess collapsed in a heap and just lay there.
Bessie surveyed the crowd. They were still holding their collective breath. Bessie’s eyes drilled into the eyes of each person, or at least each thought they were the object of her wrathful gaze.
Bessie then reached out with her mighty paw and rapped the top of the jukebox. Glenn Miller started to play ‘Pennsylvania 6-5000.’ Couples slowly got up and began to dance. Bessie stalked over to the counter and winked at Marilyn. “Gotta keep the kids in line, eh?”
Marilyn grinned back. “Sure thing, Bessie. Gotta keep the kids in line.”
Bessie had kept her reputation intact one more time, without a single soul coming to harm. She’d knock the heads of the drunks, but never hard enough to crack a skull. Marilyn knew Bessie wanted to keep it that way.
Marilyn poured a cup of coffee and set it in front of the big woman. Bessie raised the cup in salute and nodded at Marilyn. The queen of Bessie’s palace continued her benevolent reign.
The Hunter
Horror
Originally published in “Weirdly, Volume 1” from WildChild Publishing
He glanced up and down the dark street and saw no one. Shrugging the overcoat’s collar higher up his neck, he slipped into the shadowed alleyway. Once hidden from prying eyes, he took the mask from his pocket and put it on, adjusting it to ensure that he could see. The cool, but clear night improved his chances of finding prey.
He leaned back against the rough brick wall. And waited.
His thoughts wandered to the delights he would soon partake. The wide-eyed fear, the mouth gaping open to scream just as he crushed the lips against the teeth. Blood flowing between his fingers would be a pleasing touch. He mused about some kind of wrapping with sharp edges for his hands, perhaps gloves with barbed wire. Embedded glass would be too difficult to attach.
The sharp rap of high heels broke his reverie, and he pressed closer to the shadowed wall.
Yes, tight skirt practically exposing her buttocks, low-cut blouse plunging down to her artificially enhanced cleavage. Open-toed shoes. Just what I wanted. And, so soon. A bonus.
He stepped forward and with practiced ease wrapped his arm around her neck and pushed his palm against the bright red lips. The struggle was good. She writhed, and he heard her rasping in an attempt to breathe around his hand. Three fingers across the mouth with thumb and forefinger pinching her nostrils shut. He’d worked long and hard to make this move work every time. The effort paid off; her heaving body slumped against his.
Closed his eyes and shuddered. Too soon, too soon.
Gritting his teeth to slow his pounding pulse and quiet his lust, he dragged the near limp body deeper into the dark alley. Holding still, he waited for the chest to quit heaving, seeking air. He laid the body down almost tenderly and drew the scalpel from its hiding place. Slipping its edge under the top button of her blouse, with a twitch of his wrist, the button flew away into the darkness.
Work slowly. No need to rush. Savor every moment. He sighed. It took so little time these days; he’d become too practiced at his art.
Maybe something different? Should I start at the bottom, just for variety’s sake?
Kneeling beside her, his gaze roamed down her legs to her feet. Smooth. White. Red toenails. Perfect. He lifted the edge of the short skirt, exposing lacy red panties.
Crotchless. How crude.
Using the scalpel with finesse, he sliced open the skirt and the panties. His eyes caressed her shaved pubes, and he imagined her dressed in a schoolgirl’s outfit.
Plaid skirt and a white blouse.
He sighed again and pressed the scalpel down just above her slit. He started to cut upwards on her soft belly.
An arm wrapped around his neck and snapped his head backwards. Twisting to look down at the whore’s face, he couldn’t quite make it out. She was no longer lying flat on the ground, but sitting up with a strong forearm around his throat.
He dropped the scalpel and tried to raise his hands, hoping that would be enough for her to let him go, to run away. Instead, she pulled him up and his feet no longer touched the filthy cement of the alley. Held up by his neck, he gasped, trying to draw air into his lungs. The grip on his neck was too tight–lack of air turned his vision red and he felt his eyes bulge. The last thing he heard was a howl close by his ear. A howl that would turn blood cold. A howl calling a pack to fresh meat.
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A Visit to Potter’s Field
Fantasy/Humor
Originally published in Lorelei Signal and “A Time To..., Volume 1” from Wolfsinger Publications.
Rap Rap Rap
“Now who? More of those darned kids?”
RAP RAP RAP
“What do you want? Can’t you just leave me alone?”
RAP RAP RAP
“Oh, for Pete’s sake...some people have no manners.”
Griselda reached up through the hole in the coffin and pulled a clod of dirt downward. Grunting with the effort of digging herself out of her grave, she also muttered a few very unkind words about the visitor and his parentage.
RAP RAP RAP
“I am doing my best. Quit being so impatient. Hmmph.”
She managed to break away another part of the pine box lid and pulled more dirt into the coffin.
“A damned good thing those city employees are so lazy,” she muttered. “A real grave would be six feet deep. We get maybe two feet at best in Potter’s Field. Then, all the time, it’s rap rap rap, with some fool wanting to ask a question.”
RAP RAP RAP
“I SAID I’M COMING!” Griselda shouted as she dragged more dirt into the coffin and shoved the clods down to the foot. She noticed her words came out more like “I YED I COING.”
Her knees were now bent and touching the inside of the coffin lid. She shoved her left elbow to the side and knocked out another piece of wood. As she suspected, there was some open space around the edges. She pushed the dirt out of the coffin.
Finally, her groping hand felt a breeze above her. Something grabbed it and began to tug at her.
“Wait! You idiot! The lid is still in the way.” Whoever had pulled at her let go. She felt two fingernails give way. Damn. She only had three left.
She grumbled about lost body parts as she pushed upward on the inside of the lid with her knees. A screech from the rusty nails pulling loose set what was left of her teeth on edge.
Pushing her hands through the widened hole, she gripped both sides of the coffin and pulled herself upward. Dirt, worms, and other unidentifiable material fell off the top of her head and down to her shoulders. She shrugged to loosen the gap even more. Her head popped above the surface and she gasped the cold night air, her first breath in over ten years.