Merciful Beast
Merciful beast. That’s the definition of an oxymoron, if you ever thought one. A beast is the total opposite of merciful. They are savage and relentless. They are machines created to survive. Survival of the fittest in a harsh, unforgiving world. They aren’t compassionate. They don’t give a second thought to anyone besides themselves. Sounds like a lot of humans I know, actually, which is scary when you think about it. I say humans, and not people because I’m not one of them. I’m not human. Not anymore anyway.
Now I guess you can call me a merciful beast. It’s hard to be. Really hard. But I have no choice really. I had no choice in becoming a werewolf. I bet no one has ever heard of a vegetarian werewolf. Because that’s what I was when I was human. I was vegetarian. I didn’t eat meat. And then I was turned into something that does. How is that for a twist of fate?
And I was raised vegetarian. I’ve never even set foot in a McDonald’s in my life. You can’t even trust their salads. No self-respecting vegetarian should trust anything in a fast food joint.
Fast food. I can laugh now. Now my food really is fast. As in, if I want to eat, I have to chase it, because, dammit, rabbits and deer really are fast.
But those times when I’m not all furry, I’m still a vegetarian. I guess I want to balance it all out. Wolves don’t eat any kind of fruit or vegetables after all. I can remember everything from when I’m my wolf-self. The taste of the meat, the feel of the blood, the…warmth as you’re devouring them. Oh, and the fur. Can’t forget that. It gets stuck in your mouth, and it’s hard to spit it out when you’re a dog. Yuck. Thankfully when I’m human again I can brush my teeth.
I try to be merciful. I try to go after the injured, the sick, the old things. Even though they don’t taste the same. Like veggie burgers don’t taste the same as real ones. I’d assume. Like I said, I’ve never been to a McDonald’s and I’m not going to start now even though, for a small part of my new life, I’m a meat eater through and through. But when I first changed, I attempted to eat some berries, since my ingrained humanness recoiled at the thought of eating meat – let alone meat that was still alive. That didn’t go very well, other than give me scratches on my snout which are still healing on my human nose and cheeks. And getting a mouthful of thorns? Not so nice. Carnivores definitely aren’t made for eating stuff like that.
I’ve only been…different…for about a month, and despite the myths, we don’t require a full moon to go all fuzzy. But no one told me that. My mentor forgot to tell me that little nugget of information. Mentor by the way, is a very nice way of saying, the person who decided to change your life forever and turn you from a normal human, girl in my case, to a girl that goes through more than one change a month, and turns into a furry, fanged monster. And that happens every time you get upset.
Unfortunately for me. I get upset a lot. Like when someone forgets to put the cap back on the toothpaste. Yep, I’m that kind of girl. I have a short temper. Which is really not a good thing, if you get mad when someone is walking too slowly in front of you, taking up the entire sidewalk and you start getting annoyed, which turns into being pissed off, and then I feel an itch at the base of my skull. That’s where it starts. That’s when I know it’s happening. But again, Mr. come up to you on the dance floor in the night club and bite your shoulder for no apparent reason Mentor never told me that either. I’d screamed at him. “What the hell are you doing, you psycho?” He’d laughed and grinned at me, baring the long canine teeth that were stained with my blood. “Tag, you’re it,” he said.
“What does that mean?” I said. He gave me another smile and shrugged. “I’ll tell you later.”
I grabbed him and hauled him out of the club. “No, you’ll tell me now,” I demanded. And so he did. Of course, I didn’t believe him. Who would?
The first time it happened, when the itch on my neck turned into a burning tingle that ran down my spine, I thought I was having some sort of weird episode. I was home, by myself thankfully, as my roommate Jill had gone to work but I had the day off and I was sorting through the laundry, when I realized she’d washed all my gym clothes together with a bunch of stuff it shouldn’t have been and my favourite workout shirt was ruined. I was angry. Workout clothes are expensive! When my back started burning, I ran to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. I saw long dark hair sprouting down my back. And I would’ve seen more but I’d already shrunk below the bathroom cabinet, onto four legs.
And that was the day I destroyed our apartment. When Jill came back from work, I was trying to put the large bookshelf in our living room back together. I’d rammed into it and caused it to splinter and crash to the floor. I’d stuck some old phone books underneath one of the legs that had broken off. I’d already done my best at trying to stuff the stuffing back into one of the couch cushions I’d torn open with my teeth in my crazy burst of freaked out energy from turning into a normal girl who works at Starbucks, to a sleek dark furred wolf.
Jill’s eyes widened as she saw the destruction. “What the-?” she said, too stunned to finish the sentence.
“We were robbed,” I said, the words tumbling quickly from my mouth, naturally, but I turned away and didn’t meet her eyes. The things you have to do when you’re a werewolf, I thought. I wasn’t the world’s best liar. She took in the couch. “A burglar tore up our couch? Was he looking for hidden treasure?”
I smiled, embarrassed and just shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Were you here?” Jill asked. I paused a split second. I didn’t have anywhere to go today, so I told the truth. “I was asleep. I lay down to have a nap.”
Jill looked at the teetering bookshelf. “And you didn’t hear that?”
“Um…” I said. “Yeah, I heard a big crash. That’s what woke me up. But when I got out here, he was gone. It must have fallen over after he left or something.”
Jill muttered something under her breath, and then tossed her purse on the couch and ran to me. “Are you okay?”
I turned away from her again, busying myself with the stack of books I was trying to put back on the shelf. “I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t fine. It had taken me a long time to calm down, and turn back into me. Now it doesn’t take as long since I’ve been working on trying to control my temper. I try not to let things Jill does get to me anymore. If she finishes my almond milk without telling me, that’s not worth turning wolfy over.
But it’s still hard, sometimes. Especially when it’s that time of the month, when any little thing can turn me into an irrational monster. Literally. That’s why I spend a lot of time now taking long hikes in the woods now. Just to be on the safe side. It’s a lot easier to turn into a wolf in a forest, than in the middle of a busy shopping mall.
The major downside to being a werewolf is clothes. You go through a lot of clothes. I like clothes, but I like to be able to wear them more than a couple times. And when you change back, you’re naked. Which isn’t fun anywhere. Except maybe at home. So I always walk around with a change of clothes in a backpack now and when I feel the familiar itch at the base of my skull, I put the pack somewhere I’ll remember to come back to.
So this is my life now. Vegetarian barista who likes to kill and eat small animals whenever she gets angry. It’s not really something I can put on my business card. Werewolf for hire, can get rid of pesky vermin, call today!
I don’t recommend it as a lifestyle choice. Not that it’s much of a choice at all. I didn’t believe in stuff like werewolves, vampires and witches before. And even though I still don’t know if vampires and witches exist, I know I do, so nothing would surprise me.
God’s Own Medallion
The ballroom lay empty, abandoned. It’s once gleaming marble floors were chipped and cracked, and caked with years of dust and grime. The great domed ceiling, made with translucent squares of glass, was dark with algae. No one cared enough to attempt to clean the dome that sat deep underwater at the bottom of a lake. The ballroom was linked to the grand library by a
long, curved hallway that was intermittently lit by flickering tubes that ran along the top of the tunnel.
The library and ballroom were night and day. Where the ballroom was just a shell, uncared for and unused, the library was well used, and loved. Every surface was freshly dusted and polished, mahogany and other rich wood gleamed under warm lights from ornate lamps dotted around on small tables and on the large dark desk which dominated one end. A chandelier mostly of ornate, twisted metal than actual lightbulbs hung above the shelves of books and the large, inviting armchairs that were also interspersed throughout the room, but mostly clustered around the fireplace which took up a large amount of wall space on the east side.
Jonas heard the person arriving long before they reached the door to the library. He heard the hatch door thunk loudly against the stone above, on the surface, followed by each individual foot step that the visitor took down the curving metal steps of the stair case that deposited them outside the library doors.
He counted. “Ten, eleven, twelve,” the final steps down the stairs, and then paused, waiting for the knock. It came a half second later.
With a sigh he answered it. “Come in,” he said wearily, not wanting to be disturbed. He sat back in his chair, waiting for whoever it was who dared to interrupt him.
The tall, reedy man who entered opened the door slowly, as if he already knew the reaction he would get and was delaying it as long as possible.
“Sir,” he said softly, afraid that speaking louder would irritate the man even more.
“What is it?” Jonas snapped, stopping the movement of his pen across the paper spread out across the length and width of the desk.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but you have visitors,” his employee said, his voice lowering more to be barely audible.
“What? Speak up! I’m not getting any younger,” Jonas said, though he could hear the man perfectly well, just had he had his footsteps on the stairs outside and down the hall a bit.
The tall man stood straighter and raised his voice. “You have some visitors,” he said again, more loudly. “They say they have something of importance you might be interested in.”
Jonas’s eyes roamed around his office full of curios and knickknacks gathered on travels and from visitors like the people who had just arrived. People who wanted to sell him things for large sums. He was a collector, and a wealthy one, who could afford to buy rare goods that no one else had. He thought of them as his legacy. They would be here long after he was gone.
He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? What is it they have?”
The man paused, raising his eyes to the ceiling in thought. Jonas could see the wheels of the man’s brain turning, trying to remember. How could he not remember?
“Come on, Sebastian!” Jonas prompted. “Surely you must know what it is they have for me.”
Sebastian shrugged sheepishly. “I-, I’m not-,” he stuttered, and started again. “Some sort of…medallion, I think they said?” His voice raised in a question, unsure.
Jonas stood, pushing his chair back. “A medallion?” He didn’t have many medallions, but there were only a few that interested him, and he had all of them in his possession already.
Sebastian nodded as he began to back out of the room as Jonas followed him out. Up the curving metal staircase, their feet ringing hollowly, to the man hole cover of a door way, that Sebastian pushed up and over, climbing out onto the hard granite rock that poked out like a small island, or perhaps the shell of some massive turtle, in the middle of the lake.
There was a small white row boat tied to a metal rod in the rock. Sebastian climbed in first, standing shakily for a moment as the boat rocked with his weight. He then offered his hand to Jonas who gripped it firmly, crushing his fingers, but Sebastian took it in stride and only grimaced.
The trip back to shore took only five minutes, but it was a further five minutes walk to the house that was situated back from the edge of the lake and surrounded by tall trees on both sides, and grass transforming to rocks and then sand at the waters edge.
Jonas moved as quickly as he could, following the younger, more spry Sebastian up the worn path that was beaten into the grass to and from the beach, and entering his mansion on the bottom floor, and onto the hard tile floor that surrounded the pool. He debated taking the elevator to the main floor, but sometimes it was slower than it should be. He took the stairs instead, using the railing to lever himself up quickly and out into the main foyer. He strode purposefully into the sitting room next to it where his guests were waiting.
One was a tall man, young looking with a mop of dark hair. The other was a woman, slightly shorter and a lot older with more grey hair than not, taking over what used to be blond hair. It was swept back in an elegant twisted bun.
The woman had been examining a collection of objects and vases on a long table in front of a window. The man had been sitting on a couch, one leg crossed over the other and his foot bouncing nervously. They turned as Jonas entered.
“Mr. Shadbolt,” the woman began, her red lips parting in a wide smile.
“I’ve been told you have a medallion.” Jonas said bluntly. “Well? Let’s see it then.”
The young man nearly leapt off the couch, and thrust a pile of velvety cloth at Jonas. “Here it is,” the man said, words trying to escape him faster than he could speak. “It’s God’s medallion.”
The stately woman stepped forward shaking her head. “God’s Own medallion,” she corrected.
Jonas took the cloth from the man and unwrapped it slowly, carefully. The medal inside the wrapping surprised him. It was simple, understated. A silver disc, bisected by swirls that made each side mirror itself, in two almost tear-drop shapes.
Jonas’ brow furrowed. Had he seen this before? He couldn’t remember exactly.
“How much?” he asked, before he asked anything else.
“We don’t want anything for it,” the man said quickly. The woman shot him a look, but he didn’t notice. “We just want to get rid of it.”
Jonas arched a neat white eyebrow once more, curious again. “Why?”
“It’s trouble,” the man said.
The woman shook her head again and positioned herself in front of the man to stop him from speaking anymore. “He’s exaggerating. It’s...powerful,” she said, choosing her words carefully.
“Yeah, because it’s the God’s Own Medallion,” the man piped up from behind the wall the woman made. He edged out from behind her and pointed at the medallion in Jonas’ hand. “See here, both sides represent light and dark, the creation of the world.”
The woman rolled her eyes and sighed. “He’s right about that. Creation and destruction too. It’s in perfect balance.”
“But it’s been wreaking havoc on us since we got it,” the man replied. “Since we found it in an old junk shop a few months ago. It’s cursed.”
“Cursed?” Jonas echoed.
The woman laughed loud and sharp, shooting the young man another look. “I wouldn’t go that far, John,” she said. “It definitely has a …personality. And we heard you collected interesting and rare things. We’ve had our use of it, and thought you might be interested in it. If you’d like to give us a little something for it, we wouldn’t object,” she said silencing her partner with a sharp look.
Jonas looked at the medallion in his hand. It was heavy. Heavier than something that size should have been.
“Excuse me,” he said, and handed the medallion back to the man before he turned and went to a nearby bookshelf, withdrawing a large book and carrying it to a table. He flipped through the pages, that pictured antiquities of all sorts before settling on a section about medallions. He flicked over a few pages, then stopped. The medallion that currently sat in the young man’s hand was there on the page. He scanned the words in the paragraphs below it. The last sentence, a short one, made his spine tingle.
It is dangerous; owner beware.
Owner beware? Dangerous? Jonas though
t. Now he had to have it. It would be a great talking piece.
He shook hands with the man and woman and even smiled and waved them away as they drove off.