Tansy Undercrypt

Mountain Eagle took the boy by the shoulders and presented him to the warriors, who welcomed him into their circle. “Now that you are a man,” Mountain Eagle pronounced in his deep, measured voice, “we will be with you. You may seek us out, call upon us, and approach any to teach you.” “But there is one rule you must remember,” Proud Bear warned softly. “Do not approach Wolf Inside when the moon is high. You must not seek him out. You must not walk the path to his door.” The boy looked over to Wolf Inside, who nodded with the others. In the firelight, his eyes burned the color of flame.

Jim walked in, thanked the people at the desk for calling him, and made casual mention that, “The damn dog tests the fence faster than I can fix it!” as he moved to the large cages. He bailed Walt out and put him in the back of the pickup; Walt stayed low to change into human form and put on the sweats Jim had brought. “Honestly, Walt, this can’t be a weekly thing; you gotta get your shit together. Someone is going to get suspicious! Why on earth would you head into town on the weekends?” “Brunch,” Walt said a bit sheepishly. “More specifically, bacon. Thick, peppered bacon at the IHOP. My mouth is watering just talking about it; it’s like I can’t help myself.” Jim whistled, understanding but irritated that the pack might have to move again. “Goddamn werewolf Kryptonite, man,” he said, shaking his head.

“Romania has been good to us,” Kort said, lowering his paper and peering at Marta across the table. “I don’t see how Italy would be an improvement.” “It’s all potatoes, potatoes, potatoes, and the occasional beet here!” she replied with disgust. “Too many carbs!” Kort groaned. “Another diet? Oh, God save us!” “The Mediterranean diet is healthier and we would live longer,” Marta snapped as her eyes began to glow a deep amber and her teeth began to come in. “Pah!” Kort said, shaking his head, putting his ears back, and returning to the paper. “You look fine. If you need more fish, eat a tourist.”

Norman yelled and spilled his coffee when the buck darted in panic across the road, forcing him to slam on the brakes. He yelled again when the werewolf landed on the hood of his car, looking him in the eye for a moment, then bounding off after the deer. Norman put the pedal to the metal towards town, swearing a blue streak. It wasn’t fright or even anger, it was … exhilaration.

Werewolves had long infiltrated state welfare organizations (both human and animal). Being pack- and community-minded, they were drawn to lives of service. It was also quite handy to have the names and addresses of neglecters and abusers for purposes of … well … more rapid forms of justice.

They had named him “Dingo” but, at 8 pounds, the little Miniature Pinscher knew he wasn’t fierce enough to eat anyone’s baby any time soon. The truth was, he was scared to go out in the backyard (where the huge beast from next door lived to intimidate him through the chain link fence). Today, however, he trotted calmly over to barrier, briefly transformed into something horrible, lunged, and bit a hole through the chain wide enough to put his slathering muzzle through. The beast shrieked and ran, which was satisfying. God bless Dr Smith and his new Vitamin B shot – now with a drop of werewolf.

Mrs Lonsford looked over at Muffin and Cupcake with tremendous pride; they were being SO good – not begging for table scraps at all!  They met her gaze, then looked at each other. “I don’t know what is wrong with her,” Cupcake whispered in dog speak, “but I wouldn’t sit at the table with those two werewolves no how!”

The girls squealed with delighted terror, extinguishing their flashlights and watching Rae’s father pose like a werewolf in silhouette against the backyard tent (the full moon cast an almost noonday glow). This was the greatest slumber party ever! Looking out of the kitchen window, Rae’s father thought, “What the hell is that by the tent? Is that the Barkeley’s stupid dog again?”

Only one Nightsiders picnic was ever held; it was a total failure. The vampires brought beverages, which they promptly drank, then hung in the trees napping all afternoon. The werewolves provided meat for grilling, refused to cook it, ate it all, then sat around licking themselves. You could never tell if the ghost families were there or not, and they never brought anything to share. If the mummies even bothered to show up, you could count on the conversation going nowhere. The capper was what would happen when a human family would walk by the cemetery grounds. Total chaos.

It was so easy for the Daywalkers – choosing based on platform or policy … on what would happen to their ridiculous piles of money or complete lack thereof. In the Nightworld, the fight was older and tied to blood. One candidate was of secret Lycan lineage; the other, of Vampire kind. Shadows tensed, and the darkness trembled with the promise of war. Meanwhile, the humans postured, argued, and slept … unaware of the true nature of how their lives were about to change.