Bait

“I’m sorry, my dear, but this is the only way.”

Helga wrestled with her bonds. “Please, Professor; let me go. We’ll say no more about it. Please!”

She cast a nervous glance to the clouded night sky. The moon was hidden but she knew as surely as she knew her own name, that it was full. The clouds would soon roll by and the hillside would be bathed in silver.

And then – she shuddered to think what would happen next.

The Professor continued with his preparations, babbling to himself as he laid out pieces of chicken. “It is important to lay a trail,” he muttered. “So that the beast knows where to come.”

Helga’s wrists strained to free themselves of the rope that held them behind her back. Time was running out.

“Please!” she sobbed. “Before it’s too late. Before something happens we will both regret.” That was putting it mildly. But the Professor was obsessed. His eyes glinted with madness. He would not be deterred.

“I know what’s been plaguing this area for months,” he grinned. “I know what has been preying on the sheep. The cattle. The dogs. And that poor child – what was his name?”

“Archie,” said Helga, sadly. Only that morning, the six-year-old had been found in his back garden, with his throat torn out and his innards strewn around the lawn.

“You have nothing to fear,” the Professor patted her cheek. “I shall not be far away. My pistol is primed and loaded with silver bullets. I was a crack shot in my day and I still have my eye.”

Helga was far from reassured.

The clouds crawled away, revealing a fat and pregnant moon, glowing in its fullness.

Helga’s skin tingled. It was time.

In a second, her body elongated, snapping the ropes. Lush, auburn fur sprouted all over her, while her face stretched and elongated into a snout with teeth as long as the Professor’s fingers.

The old man staggered backwards and fell. He held up his hands to protect himself but the beast tore off his arms and flung them across the dewy sward.

The beast licked its slavering chops, preparing to bury its muzzle in the Professor’s soft belly.

The boy – Archie – had been a mistake and one she bitterly regretted, but it was going to be a pleasure to tear the smug old man to shreds.

Use me as werewolf bait, would you? Helga smirked, deep within her animal form. Well, guess what, Professor?

It worked.

werewolf-md

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