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Mark of The Wolf
Jeff Groves
When someone mentions werebeasts, there are some standard responses: Halloween, wolf men, and books of the fantasy and horror genres.
My own response is somewhat more lengthy: "Werebeasts, a species of supernatural creature—or being, if you prefer—that shifts its shape between man and beast, the best known of which is the werewolf. I have heard that the Japanese believed in a werefox and the Native Americans and Russians believed in a werebear.
"According to popular belief, the werewolf changes with the full moon and remembers nothing. According to modern interpretation of the myth the transformation is from man to a monstrous half-way shape. However, the prevailing myth in the middle ages was man to wolf."
If I really want to be left alone right then (or for the next day or two, depending upon who I’m speaking to), I will mention—in very great detail—an old leather-bound tome that I acquired from a crazy antiques dealer I met while vacationing in England, supposedly written by an anonymous conclave of occultists—one of whom claimed to be a lycanthrope himself—describing that there were two types of werebeasts: Greater and lesser. The lesser beast in very well known; identical, in fact, to common myth. There are three common ways of becoming a lesser were’ (there are, to my understanding, an infinite number of ways for this sort of thing to happen): 1) being bitten by or biting a lesser were’ (the lycanthropic curse is passed on through blood and saliva), 2) having a lesser were’ for an ancestor (the curse can skip up to eight generations), and 3) a Ritual of Lycanthropy.
A Greater Were’ differs from a lesser one in that, first and foremost, he or she retains his or her mental facilities, after the first thirty seconds or so of the transformation, and memory of everything done while transformed. The second major difference is that the Greater Were’ can change at any time he or she wishes: day or night, any phase of the moon. Only at the Solstices and Equinoxes is the Change unstoppable… from moonrise to moonset.
According to the tome, anyway.
When I actually speak the whole thing, it lasts exactly five minutes, forty-three seconds. The longest anyone has lasted against the tirade was a commendable two minutes, thirty-eight seconds… which is about thirty three seconds into the tome.
I’m easily amused, ain’t I? Heh, heh, heh.
I mention all this because it’s all relevant, but I’ll get to how later. First allow me to outline my social situation. This, too, is relevant. Building the foundation of my story, as it were… no pun intended.
A group of friends and I founded a club a few of years back; summer of the seventh grade, as I recall. We call ourselves the Society of Freaks. Our goal is to compile and share knowledge of taboo, supernatural, unexplained, and "freakish" things; hence the name. We each have a specialty, mine, of course, being werewolves and werebeasts in general. The other members of the Society are Eric Steele, Melissa Wood, Benji Griffin, Nathan Black, and Aaron Pohl.
Aaron’s specialty is the occult in general and it’s doctrine and rituals specifically. I know for a fact that he believes in a lot of it, and suspect that he practices more than he admits to. To be honest, his calm unperterbable belief has, on occasion, shaken my logical cynicism. (Once, in math class, I asked him if he carried a ritual dagger with him. When he showed it to me, I asked how he’d gotten it by the school’s metal detectors. He just smiled.)
Eric’s is UFO’s which he shares with his girlfriend, Melissa. His half is species of ET’s, abduction, ancient astronauts, and those parts of the UFO mythos. Melissa handles the government conspiracies, Area 51, and the men in black. Between the two of them, there’s enough belief and information (some of which, I suspect might just be true) to bring the men in black down on us all. If they existed.
Benji knows the vampire mythology like the back of his hand and at least six vampire novels by heart, including Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire and Bram Stoker’s Dracula. This knowledge has filled the silence around the Society’s campfire many a time.
Nathan has been with the Society since Eric and I started it. For lack of a specialty, he has always been the compiler; recording, indexing, and cross referencing all the information we give him, then adding it tow an ever-growing database on a hard drive that Society funds purchased for that purpose, complete with quotes, audio clips, and graphics. He’s a programmer, you see.
However, despite the fact that Eric, Nathan, and I founded the Society of Freaks, Aaron is in complete control. Mostly because he knows more about his specialty than even Eric and Melissa put together do about theirs, but also because he has a fair understanding of everyone else’s fields, as well. It’s to his eternal vexation that I won’t share the Rituals of Lycanthropy, or any of the eight or nine other rituals, spells, and charms in the Grimoire of the Wolf. I can be unbelievably perverse at times. Heh.
The Society of Freaks meets twice every moon—at Full and New, or as close as possible—for a camping trip in Melissa’s back yard. (Before she joined last year, we used my basement.) We also meet twice a week after school—Tuesday and Friday—for regular, chaotic, and very fun "discussion" meetings. This story begins during one of the second types, on a Tuesday in mid-February.
"Someone talked to me today."
"Sure, Aaron. Uh-huh. We believe you." Ain’t I a wise-ass sometimes?
Aaron went on as if I hadn’t spoken. "An Outsider, asking when our next meeting was."
"And what did you tell them?" asked Melissa, glaring at me.
"I told her today. Now."
The same instant he said "now", someone rapped at the door of the science lab, which we keep locked. In theory, we let the teacher in whenever he asks; in practice…
Not, that he ever asks.
This was, however, not the teacher. Aaron gestured, barely pausing to stop the near-eternal shuffling of his Tarot cards, and I—seated at the teachers’ desk, and therefore closest to the door—opened it to let whoever it was in.
She was short, about five-foot-five, and attractive. As she took her first step past the thresh hold, Aaron drew a card; foot at card hit the floor simultaneously. She had light brown hair with coppery highlights and vivid blue eyes. Another step, another card hit the floor. She was wearing blue-jeans with ripped out knees and a tie-died T-shirt, over which she wore a brown leather flight jacket. Another step, another card. The back of the jacket was emblazoned with a picture of a World War Two bomber. Another step, another card.
"Uh," she said, "hi?"
The fifth and final card was placed on the dirty tile floor in front of Aaron.
"Greetings," he said calmly, turning the cards face up in the same five pointed star position he had laid them down in.
Nathan looked up from his laptop, where he was tinkering with part of the database. "Hi."
"Yo," called Eric from the corner, where he was supposedly discussing government involvement in alien abductions with Melissa.
"Oh, hi Christi," was Melissa’s only slightly less distracted answer.
"What’s up?" was my own greeting, now that I had managed to wriggle around her, back to where I had been sitting.
The girl—I recognized her, now: her name was Christina Goldman; I’d overheard it and a brief description (consisting of curving hand motions and "nice tits" and little else) bantered around by some of the jocks—seemed about to say something, when Aaron blasted out an amazed "The Hell?" and quickly slapped down four more cards, then flipping them. Everyone stared as he pulled a sketch pad our of his duster (which he never seemed to take off) and started scribbling. When he was done, he leveled me with a freezing calm gaze.
"She’s in your territory, Jeff. Don’t screw this up."
I gaped at him for a moment, everyone else staring back and forth between the two of us.
"Okay…" I said at last, "whatever, Aaron…"
Letting out a long breath, I turned to the astounded girl. "Anyway… You’re Christina, right? Okay, I was just double-checking. I’m Jeff. I’m the only one of us who isn’t busy anyway, so whatcha need?"
She sat down in the chair I offered her, and asked "What did that guy mean, I was ‘in your territory’?"
"Aaron gets weird like that sometimes. I know what he meant by my ‘territory’, I think, but I have no idea what he meant by you being in it."
"Oh… well, what did he mean by your territory?"
"Er, sorry. You see, we each have a specialty. Mine is werewolves and lycanthropy.
She nodded slowly. "Do you believe?" she asked hesitantly.
"I’m not sure. There’s evidence both ways. Besides that, there’s the fact that I’ve gotten to the point where, when Aaron gets weird like that, everything is in question."
"He does that sort of thing often?" Christina asked nervously.
"Um… well… yes. You almost get used to it, after a while." I paused for a bit. "So, what were we talking about?"
"You just told me that you didn’t know whether or not you believed in werewolves."
"Ah, yes." And so I began my tirade, and Christina Goldman became the first human being—aside from Aaron, if he can be counted as one—to last the whole five and three quarters minutes of it. Then she started asking questions.
How can you identify a werewolf? Several ways: they have blood under their fingernails after the full moon, for one thing. For another, a spree of maulings begins, leaving half-eaten corpses—often with their hearts ripped out—on the full moon; the werewolf is never seen on the morning after. Some of those familiar with the Unseen claim to see an aura of some sort: the Mark of the Wolf.
Is there a cure for lycanthropy? None per se. First off, lycanthropy isn’t a disease: it’s somewhere between a curse and an enchantment, with some of the characteristics of a blessing. ("I’m not sure ‘xactly what that means," I told her, "but Aaron might be able to explain it to you." "No thanks," she said, "I think I’ll pass.") There is no fail-safe way to reverse a lycanthropy, unless a certain Ritual of Lycanthropy is used, which places the actual spell causing the condition in an amulet or ring or token that—when broken—may break the spell. However, there is a solution to the problem of Changing with the moon: to become a Greater lycanthrope.
How would one become a Greater lycanthrope? A ritual. It’s in my Grimoire of the Wolf—at home.
"By the way," I asked, "what do you need all this information for?"
"A research project," she answered, a little uncomfortable, "and, I guess I have to admit I’m a little curious."
"Well, some of that curiosity will have to wait," I told her, glancing at my watch, "it’s time for me to scram. Do you want my number so I can tell you more this evening."
"Sure. Thanks."
"First time I ever saw a guy give a girl his number, ‘stead of asking for hers," she paused, "subtle, too."
"Say again?"
"Never mind, Jeff. Go home."
"Had an interesting meeting today," I told my parents at dinner.
"How so, dear?" Mom asked.
"This girl showed up in the middle of the meeting… right after—and I mean just as he was finishing—right after Aaron told us someone had asked when our meeting was. Her name was Christina Goldman—not that you’d recognize it."
"What did she want?" my dad asked.
"She wanted to know about werewolves. Gave her my number, so she could call for more info."
"Do you know why she was interested," my mother inquired.
"Research project, she said."
Christina—or Christi—did call that night. I snagged the phone just as I was coming up from dinner. (Unfortunately, my caller ID is busted and I couldn’t get her number that way… although, why I wanted it so bad, I wasn’t quite sure at the time.) She said she had a lot of homework, so she couldn’t talk long, but when was the next meeting?
"Friday," I told her. "We meet Tuesdays and Fridays."
"Thanks! Bye!"
Friday, last day of the school week, and second weekly meeting of the Society of Freaks.
All things being equal (as the saying goes, though they’re not), it’s one of my favorite days.
I told Christina more about werewolves, lycanthropy, and the Grimoire. Aaron acted normal—for him—and Eric and Melissa talked in the back… as always. Nathan typed, and Benji piddled around. Aside from the presence of an Outsider (Christina), it was not an unusual meeting.
The New Moon camp-out was this weekend, so the last fifteen minutes of the meeting was dedicated to planning what little hadn’t been planed already—like who’s turn it was to bring the s’mores, hot dogs, foil burger ingredients, et cetera.
Then Melissa surprised us all by inviting Christi (whose parents, of course, would think it a regular sleep-over). Christina surprised me—and Eric and Nathan, too.. Aaron, of course, was unfazed—by saying "sure"… Well, Hell! Would you expect a normal, popular person to voluntarily associate with people calling themselves the Society of Freaks?
This is not to say I was displeased, or anything, just surprised as Hell.
Since the Moon-Meetings—as we like to call our little camp-outs—are held in Melissa’s back yard, she’s exempt from food responsibility (I’m not quite sure why; I never was), as is Aaron—for obvious reasons (Shit, man! Would you trust someone that weird with your food?).This, of course, leaves only me, Eric, Nathan, and Benji to bring the chow. That wouldn’t even be a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that Eric simply has no money (you should see the hoops he jumps through to take Melissa on dates), and Nathan spends all his on having the most advanced PC not owned by the government.
Who can afford to bring food, then? Me and Benji. Who does bring the chow? Me.
Well, now that I’m done bitching, I’ll get on with the story. Melissa lives about five, maybe ten miles out of town in a large, three story house that makes my parents look poor, situated on a twenty-acre plot, most of which is forest.
Now, when Melissa first started hosting the Moon-Meetings, they were in her living room, under her parent’s watchful ear. However, after the third such meeting, Melissa’s parents allowed themselves to be convinced that we were trustworthy enough to be allowed to camp in the woods. Her theory (and my own) is that they realized that not even the five of us together could physically coerce her in to doing much of anything… a rather uncomplimentary assessment, but—aside from Aaron—accurate.
The site we use is a relatively large natural clearing about ten minutes walk from her back door. With some help from Melissa’s father, we moved a large, flat chunk of rock we found elsewhere (I can’t remember where) to the middle of the clearing for use as a base for our fire. We also pitched in for some benches and tents—two months of Benji’s pay, my pay, and Melissa’s allowance went into that particular venture.
The way things work is that we’ll show up at Melissa’s door ‘round five, five-thirty Friday night. When everyone gets there, we’ll shoulder our tents—we have three of them—and trek out to the site.
Lemme tell you something. Those "lightweight" tents ain’t so light after carrying them for five minutes.
It takes us, as I said, about ten minutes to get to our camp site, usually. That day, however, we had an Outsider, and the tents seemed unusually heavy. It took closer to twenty.
As the rest of us took it upon ourselves to rest briefly, Aaron actually began setting everything up. He usually doesn’t help much.
It occurs to me that I haven’t really described anyone.
Myself, I’ve got blue eyes and blondish-brown hair that comes down about to my jaw… slightly longer in front. I’d like to say I have a good complexion, but anything beyond ‘decent’ would be pushing it. I wear band shirts, generally, augmented by the occasional Dilbert merchandise and miscellaneous items, with jeans and brown leather boots. At the time, I had recently gotten my ear pierced, and still wore the piercing stud.
Eric is pretty dark: tanned skin, dark hair, dark eyes. His hair is shaved off on the sides of his head, and he dresses… well… punk, except that his clothes aren’t full of clothes pins and staples, and don’t look about to fall apart. Aside from that, he fits the mold almost perfectly, down to the insane number of patches and the army boots. Despite the way he dresses, he’s not really that anti-social… he simply ignores everyone other than Melissa.
Melissa dresses kinda grungy. No, not grimy, grungy. Y’know: grunge style? I thought you did: ripped out jeans, beet up plaid shirts… all that. Her wavy brown hair is worn lose, just past her shoulders (a little shorter than Eric’s, in fact), and she has green-blue eyes. She’s pretty, but not that popular, despite the fact that she seems to know everyone in the entire high school. I think that she and Eric will probably elope together when they graduate… if not before then.
Benji has short brown hair, pretty curly, and brown eyes. The only way to describe how he dresses is haphazardly. Any kind of shirt, any kind of pants… anything, just about. He’s simply too lazy to go to the effort of establishing any sort of organized wardrobe. He’s a decent sort of fellow, if you go in for the stoner/boozer types… he’ll gladly share anything he has with you: his drugs, his booze, his money… his very life’s blood, I sometimes suspect.
Nathan dresses nice; in fact, he just looks damn good. He’s about a quarter black, and he wears his hair in a kind of flat top. He dresses in khaki pants and nice shirts. He bloody looks like a computer programmer (the slick type, not the scuzzy "I know the computer: worship me" type)! He’s kinda quiet, but basically a nice guy.
Aaron… is Aaron. Black hair, pale blue eyes, pale white skin. He always wears black: black T-shirts, black jeans, black leather boots, black duster. Occasionally, he wears silver jewelry—his left ear is pierced seven times, the right one six—or a shirt with some color (usually red or blue) in addition to black. He can look at you, and just about make you piss your pants. I really don’t know what to say about Aaron: he’s a good friend, but completely unpredictable, and I can’t even vouch for his sanity.
Now do you begin to understand why the fact that Christi—a normal, popular girl with quite a lot to lose—was willing to even talk to us?
While Aaron set up camp—he’d refused offers to help—I talked with Christina… seeing as Melissa was busy with (no, not with) Eric, and Nathan and Benji were just piddling around.
We chatted for some time, and I came to the realization that she was not just some average socialite: she was a genuinely nice person, who had somehow avoided the brainwashing of popular society. She saw nothing wrong with us, aside from the fact that we seldom talked to anyone… well, excepting Aaron, who scared her out of her mind, but he does that to everyone. Despite my reluctance to find appeal in an Outsider, I found myself really liking Christi: she’s just such a sweet girl… and only a couple inches shorter than me!
Once Aaron finished setting up the tents, we worked out who slept in which. Usually, it goes something like this: Aaron and I in one (although, I’m not sure he sleeps), Nathan and Benji in another, and Eric and Melissa in the last… Melissa’s parents think that Eric sleeps with Nathan and Benji, but that’s really never been a viable option in her mind, or Eric’s. To my knowledge they haven’t done anything yet (seeing as they haven’t woken any of us up yet), but… you have to wonder. Tonight, since Christi really couldn’t share a tent with one of us (I don’t think it even occurred to anyone to shack her up in one of the guy tents), Eric and Melissa got broken up (I’m not quite sure they could be comfortable sleeping together—in whatever sense of the term—with someone else in the tent; they don’t go in for threesomes) and Christi slept with her. Eric joined Nathan and Benji… I’m the only one who’ll really put up with Aaron.
As the night wore on, we chatted and talked, and basically just had fun. I think we sort of surprised Christi with how normal we were… even Aaron was acting downright human. Benji told normal camp-out stories (augmented by vampires, of course) and recited lengthy quotations from Bram Stoker after dropping a hit of acid (he offered to share, but we all declined). When Benji wandered off to watch the sky swirl and the trees walk, Aaron took over the entertainment.
He wrapped his duster around himself like a cloak and in an icy calm voice like the night wind told tales of fire and brimstone and light and dark and the coming of the End. He always held himself so that the light of the campfire (by that time, it was dark) played off his features exactly right to add the perfect aura of evil, beauty, terror, or joy to his tale. I never knew that Aaron had this in him. He was still scaring us shitless, but now it was a good scared! To my great pleasure, even Christina managed to get over the way Aaron usually acts, and join the fun.
At around nine thirty, after the food had been cooked and devoured, Eric and Melissa snuck off to one of the tents for a long make-out session before going to bed. (I wondered at the time how they could stand each other’s breath… after the camp-out, I discovered nearly half my tin of Altoids missing) By then, Benji had dropped another hit or two, and was lying on the ground burbling happily about the naked blue women dancing on his chest. Nathan was reading a book on advanced C++ on the other side of the fire, and Aaron—bored of entertaining us—was doing Tai Chi just outside the firelight.
"Where’d Melissa go?" asked Christi, who’d been busy watching Aaron when Melissa and Eric had disappeared.
"She, uh," I told her, "went, er, into one of the tents to, um, talk with Eric."
"To talk with…?" she looked at me blankly for a few seconds. "Oh. I see."
"Generally," I explained to her, "they share a tent. Since you’re here, however… and you presumably wouldn’t be willing to share one with say… Aaron and I, they’re not. So they’re saying ‘good night’ now, instead of later."
Christina blushed. "Have they ever…?"
"I dunno," I told her honestly. "Not on one of these camp-outs, but… I really couldn’t tell you."
"I see."
We talked for a bit more, until around ten, when Melissa and Eric came out of Aaron’s and my tent, and went to bed in the other two, and Christi went with a mighty yawn to the one she would share with Melissa.
I watched her go, sighing with disappointment: I’d enjoyed talking to her. Hell, if more normal people were like her, I’d probably be social.
"Well?" asked Aaron from behind me, startling me and nearly making me jump off of the bench I was sitting on.
"Well, what?" I demanded, when I had regained my composure.
"What do you think of her?"
"Oh, God," I grumbled. "Don’t tell me you…"
"Of course not. Even if she were my type, I’m hardly hers. You on the other hand…"
I laughed derisively.
"We need to talk, Jeff," he told me calmly, almost earnestly, "and now is the time. Benji’s passed out, and everyone else has sought their tent. There is something I must show you."
Opening his duster, Aaron drew out his sketch pad:
"Do you have any idea what any of this means?" Aaron demanded quietly.
"Not really, no." I told him calmly.
"Let me put it to you this way: fate hangs in the balance—yours, and others—and you stand at the crossroads."
"Whose fate? Mine and who else, Aaron? And why are you bothering to tell me? You know I don’t believe in this stuff!"
Aaron grabbed me by my collar with both hands, and raised me to his eye level. For the first time since I can’t remember when—if ever—Aaron looked not only upset, but like he had lost control. I think that that was what scared me into listening.
"If you blow me off, and don’t take everything I say seriously, neither you, nor Christina, will have any chance at happiness. That is certain; absolutely set in Fate. But if you play this correctly, and don’t screw up, you both have a very good chance at finding happiness. You stand at the crossroads: at the Dividing Path. There are two options, neither of which I understand—but I think you do—and you are the one who will choose between them. They are the Wolf, and the Guardian. On the side of the Wolf, there is pain, death, despair and damnation; on the side of the Guardian there is joy, completion, perfection, and love… or at very least, friendship."
As Aaron drew a ragged breath, I began trembling… I thought I might just know what was meant.
"I have seen the Mark of the Wolf upon Christina: in the light of the New Moon, her eyes glow gold, and the wolf appears at her side. The choice has already been made, but somehow you can reverse that… how, Jeff, can you, who does not believe, hold this power over fate? How is it that you can know your destiny and choose another? You know, or you will… I can see that much clearly. You will tell me, in time."
Aaron’s deathly quiet voice had taken on a hysterical edge, and he had begun shaking me to emphasize his point. I was too scared to protest that there was nothing between Christina and I… and somehow reluctant to do so, besides.
"But now is not the time," he concluded more calmly, "we are both weary, and you have work you must do before the Full Moon. Do not dawdle, Jeff. Your happiness and hers both hang in the balance… along with more than you can ever know.
"But I have already said too much, and I can feel the Balance shifting beneath my feet. I will pay for what I have said, but you must listen to me at all costs. DO NOT FORGET!"
I did not sleep well, that night… I lay awake wondering why Aaron had kept bringing up both of us… like we were tied together, somehow. Yeah. Right. I wish a girl that nice could see something in me… and that beautiful? Ha. Maybe when I’ve died and gone to Heaven.
Not much else really happened the next day: we hung out, talked together… Aaron went even more reclusive than usual, and Christi spent most of her time talking with Melissa—who for some reason kept looking over at me.
At around noon, we each went our separate ways: Aaron to wherever it is he lives, Benji to a party at a friend’s house, Nathan home, Christina home, and Eric and Melissa to wherever they could find an hour of five of privacy. Myself, I went to work. My shift was one to seven, and I amazingly worked the whole thing. After that, I went home and did my homework. That lasted me until ten, at which point I considered going to bed.
The only problem with that, however, was that I couldn’t sleep. The things Aaron had told me had disturbed me so badly that I still could find no rest. Something had done the impossible, and robbed Aaron of his calm. Something had compelled him to take me by the scruff of the neck and tell me things that I’d almost certainly ignore. And somehow, he had known what I hadn’t even quite figured out for myself: that I found Christina Goldman more than just physically attractive… just how much more, I couldn’t yet say, but, still… And he had implied not only that it might be a lot, but that something might become of it. And he downright said, I could screw us both over good by not listening to him.
What did it all mean, dammit?
But the cards were what scared me the most: Wolf and Guardian. Aaron had no way of knowing that Greater Werewolves were called Guardians. And the Mark of the Wolf? How could he have known about that, unless he’d seen it? It was impossible! It couldn’t all be real! That would make me re-think the universe from the foundations to the very pinnacle of my understanding! This could not be real!
But… what other explanation was there?
Christi didn’t come to the next meeting to the Society of Freaks, and somehow Eric and Benji both failed to make it. All in all, it was kind of lonely.
"It’s so weird like this," I commented after a brief while. "I can’t remember the last time either one of those two couldn’t show… and for both of them to be gone?"
"Yeah…" agreed Nathan.
We sat in silence for a while longer, before Nathan sighed in exasperation.
"This is ridiculous. I’m going home."
Nathan packed his laptop back into his backpack and wandered off.
"Okay…" I said, looking back and forth between Melissa and Aaron. "We’re alone, now."
"Yeah," agreed Melissa, "that we are."
Aaron failed to comment.
"So," Melissa went on, "what’d you two think of Christi?"
Aaron just raised an eyebrow.
"I dunno," I said, shrugging, "she was pretty nice, but she is a normal person, after all. It completely floored me when she agreed to tag along."
Melissa nodded, considering. "So, would anyone mind if I invited her to join up?"
Aaron glanced at her, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Join up?"
"You’re kidding me," I said, astonished, "right?"
"Not at all. Are there any objections?"
Aaron narrowed his eyes. "Could she handle it? And who would follow her in? I, personally, don’t want this room slowly filling with cheerleaders and football jocks."
"Besides," I pointed out, "what would her specialty be? Granted, Nathan doesn’t have one, but he’s the compiler and helped me set this up. What could she contribute?"
Melissa glared at us. "C’mon. She’s a sweet girl, and she could contribute a lot."
Aaron leveled one of his looks at her. "Answer the questions. Eric had to answer them when he sponsored you, and I believe Jeff had to answer similar ones when he sponsored Benji and I. Now, you want to bring a friend into the fold. Now, it’s your turn to validate their existence."
Melissa blinked, and looked at me for confirmation. I nodded; it was exactly as Aaron had said.
"You’ll also have to bring it up when everyone else is here. A unanimous vote is required… at least until our membership reaches a less easily manageable level," I paused for a moment. "However, if you can convince us, I at least will back you up."
It turned out that Melissa hadn’t come as ill-prepared as it had looked. She had, in fact, expected that sort of reaction, and while hoping for an easier time of it, was capable of showing Christina’s worth. According to her Christi is somewhat of a generalist: monsters (with a leaning toward gryphons), witchcraft, folklore of the middle ages, and the sex practices of jocks and preppies (a topic freakish enough in and of itself to almost rival Aaron’s). The important part, however, was that Melissa was willing to vouch for her and could provide some evidence that Christina was eligible to join the Society of Freaks.
After a brief discussion, Aaron and I decided to back the sponsorship. We promised Melissa that we’d contact the other members, and let her know the verdict by the next day.
The only one who took any effort at all to convince was Nathan, who was worried about the encroachment of normal people on our Society. He only put up a token resistance, however.
Thus it was that Christina Goldman was accepted into the Society of Freaks. Our ranks grew in number, our database would grow slightly, a new point of view would be added to our arguments, and another step was advanced in Melissa’s grand scheme.
No, I won’t tell you what it was. You get to figure that out, just like I did: the hard way.
The Society of Freaks has a sort of informal induction ceremony. It goes something like this: first the new member is told to show up about fifteen minutes early (not that they know it’s early), while the rest of the Society is instructed to show up late. After the inductee has been allowed to suffer for about twenty minutes, we all come barging in wielding snub-nosed paper airplanes which we hurl with minimal accuracy in their direction. Then, in celebration, we break out the soda and brownies, and introduce the new member to our almost-never-present sponsor, Mr. Smith.
But wouldn’t you know it? Melissa went and almost screwed it up: she didn’t give Christi any warning.
Fortunately, we caught her just before she packed up and left.
It was great fun.
So Christi started attending regular meetings, and even managed to worm her way into Aaron’s good graces. As the Full Moon approached, I completely forgot Aaron’s warning.
We got real lucky that February: New Moon and Full both on weekends, so we were actually able to have our Moon Meetings on the actual day of the Moon… which almost turned out to be a disaster.
Since Christi was now a part of the Society, her parents got clued in on the whole mess… and almost had kittens. It took Melissa’s parents solemn oath that nothing would happen to their little girl, and that none of us were that bad (they don’t know Aaron that well) before Christi could come.
We did the usual routine: dragging out the tents and food… except with the additional advantage of Christi’s sports utility vehicle. That was nice. It took a while longer to find a path the vehicle could ride, and in the end we did turn out having to go through brush if we didn’t carry it manually, but it still ended up a shorter walk.
Things went approximately as normal… save that there was a new member, which added a lot of fun to it. This time Benji brought alcohol instead of hallucinogens, so the bottle of Captain Morgan’s spiced dark (that’s rum) got passed around, along with a pint of peach schnapps and a big thing of Jack (that’s Jack Daniel’s Tennessee whiskey, for those of you who don’t know). Myself, I stayed with the schnapps; Aaron passed the bottles along, and broke out his personal stash of Scottish liqueur; Melissa and Eric laid claim to the Jack; and to my great surprise, Christi almost got into a fight with Benji on the Cap’n’s. They eventually agreed to share the bottle.
Before even Nathan (with whom I shared the schnapps) could get imbibed, however, it began getting dark and we had to set up the camp fire. We had just gotten back to carousing when the moon began to rise.
Christi looked nervous, and began complaining of a headache. Aaron went over to her, and gave her a few Advil out of a bottle in his trench. My slightly clouded mind had to wonder what all he kept in there… or if what he didn't would be an easier question to ask. By nine thirty, Benji had taken his bottles back (under much protest from Eric and Melissa, whose already few inhibitions had been lessened)… but we’d been going at it since around six or six thirty.
Aaron claimed laughingly that he saw hangovers in our futures. I had to agree with him.
Even after we quit consuming the alcohol, however, everything continued to be quite funny. We laughed till we cried, as Nathan regaled us with the things he’d seen done to computers; Benji told stories of all the things he’d seen while he was high, and all the things he’d seen done under the influence of all sorts of things; Aaron told stories about the odd practices of Catholic suburbs and State hostels (sometimes called "homes"); Christina amused and amazed us all with the things she’d seen done in the girl’s locker room (and incidentally confirmed a theory of mine dating back to junior high about the amount of hair spray in one, and the size of the resulting crater if one were to throw a match in) and the things she’d overheard cheerleaders saying they’d done last night. Mostly ignoring the rest of us, our thoroughly drunken pair of lovebirds were having "dry" sex (that’s with clothes on, folks) and seemed to be considering trying out the "wet" version thereof.
Then, before any of us noticed (and usually at least one of us is looking for it… we like to howl), the Moon reached it’s zenith.
Christi cried out and clutched her head. She half stood as her spine arched backwards with a horrible cracking noise, then arching forward with stomach-wrenching wet popping sounds. Her shirt tore as her shoulders broadened, and was tossed to the ground moments later. Her bra, too, had ripped, and fell to the ground of it’s own accord. Her eyes had begun to glow bright red as she fell to the ground, dexterous slim-fingered hands now clumsy claws. Her face elongated into a snout as reddish-brown hair began to grow all over her body. Her jeans ripped and tore and fell to the ground as her leg muscles bulged—along with those of the rest of her body—and the middle of her lower legs bucked backwards forming the ankle of an animal’s leg. A tail burst from the base of her spine, and she raised up on her hind legs to howl at the moon.
The visage of the Wolf that Christina had become was hauntingly human, and that part of my mind that coldly analyzed everything noted that modern myth seemed to be more accurate than classical. The She-Wolf that had been Christi fell back down on it’s forepaws and looked around for a meal. It lunged at the closest target: me…
…and encountered a wall as Aaron spoke a guttural word that sounded like a cross between German and Russian. With a flickering of almost visible aethral fire, a cage was built around the beast.
"I warned you, Jeff," snarled Aaron as he stepped even with me, holding his right hand out solidly, fore and middle finger extended, thumb, ring and pinky curled slightly inward. His left had swirled around through a series of odd gestures. "If you had given me the Grimoire, I might have been able to do this for you. But no. Now I have to clean up after your carelessness without any real idea of what I’m doing."
The creature bashed again against the simmering, almost visible wall as if testing it’s weaknesses.
"You’re smarter than I thought," muttered Aaron, reaching into his duster, "but only the Tiger can match the Dragon. The Wolf is impotent!"
Drawing a match out of his inside pocket, Aaron lit it by striking it up his chest. With a harshly spoken word and a snap of his fingers, the burning match was sent flying into the grass in front of the monstrous thing that had been Christi. A flame six inches high burst from the ground where the match hit, and the fire spread in a circle around the raging beast and the flickering, dying wall that was almost there. When the circle was joined, a pentagram of flame erupted inside. The shimmering wall vanished, and the monstrosity crashed against the invisible barrier of the circle, which had died to a sullen red glow.
I honestly couldn’t tell you what any of the others were doing during all this… for all I know, Nathan and Benji kept talking, and Eric and Melissa actually did make love there on the grass as if nothing was going on. I doubt that was what happened, but for all I know, that could have been what was going on.
Nor can I remember what the others did as the night wore on, and Aaron and I stood vigil over the thing that Christi had become until moonset, just minutes before dawn, when the fur fell from her body and she was the girl I had known… except completely without clothes.
No, just so you know, I was not looking.
Without quite thinking, I grabbed Aaron’s duster and wrenched it off of his shoulders, nearly tipping him over. As Christi began to stir, and uncurl from her fetal position, I ran over and draped the coat over her. While she blinked foggily, I turned to grab one of the blankets I had brought, only to find Aaron behind me with one, smiling slightly.
"Maybe I need not have said anything at all," he whispered, looking at the two of us.
To this very day, I have no idea what he meant.
When Melissa awoke (apparently, she and Eric hadn’t been making out… they’d been passed out), and Aaron and I explained what had happened, she didn’t quite believe it. She did, however, believe in the evidence her eyes presented, which was Christi lying on the ground wrapped only in a blanket and Aaron’s duster. So she ran home to grab some clothes.
Melissa and Christina were not too different in height, only a couple inches—Melissa being the taller—so a shirt and pants were easy, once a belt was provided… but clothes of a more personal nature… well… they are not of a size. But, despite discomfort, Christi was clothed, and now wished to have a discussion with Aaron and I… the only ones who had actually seen the entire incident. Eric, Melissa, Nathan and Benji made themselves scarce and tried to deal with varying degrees of hangover.
"What happened?" Christi asked us shakily.
"You are a werewolf," Aaron told her calmly. "You Changed with the Full Moon."
"I… I thought so…" she sobbed. "How… how is it that you’re still alive? I thought werewolves killed and ate everything…"
"I contained you," Aaron told her gently. "I had a feeling this might happen."
"You knew?" she demanded angrily, still sobbing.
"Yes. I suspected the instant you first talked to me, and knew the night of the New Moon. I warned Jeff, but…"
"You knew and didn’t do anything?" she screamed at me.
I reeled back from her cry, hurt welling up inside of me.
"I didn’t know! I had no way of knowing this was real! I…"
Aaron cut me off: "Don’t blame him. If anyone, blame me. Jeff would have helped you if he had known how. He never believed… he just obsessed. He is guileless and innocent; forgive him. He never wanted to hurt you or anyone."
Christina just kept looking at me. I started to cry.
"If I had known, I’d have shown you the Grimoire… I’d have shown you how this could be fixed… but how could I know? Aaron told me at the New Moon, along with all sorts of gibberish, and never mentioned it again. I was scared to admit it might be real…"
I trailed off sobbing.
Christi stared at me, eyes still pouring tears. I sometimes wonder what was going through her mind, then.
Somehow, suddenly, I found that we had our arms wrapped around each other and were sobbing like babies. Aaron told me later that he’d guided us to it… but that all that had been needed was a small physical tap in each other’s direction.
We didn’t talk at all again that weekend, but when school started again Monday, I looked for her before first hour.
I found her sitting alone in the commons, staring at the ceiling.
"Hi," I said, nervously.
"Hi," she said, blankly.
"I… um… what lunch do you have?"
"Third."
"Could you meet me in the library? I brought the Grimoire… there’s a way I can help you…"
She grunted something vaguely resembling an affirmative, and I granted her unspoken wish and left her alone.
I spent the entire first few hours of the day moping, wondering if she’d be there when I came to the library. I had found the information I wanted in the Grimoire, but it wasn’t necessarily good news.
Fourth Hour came at last, and I didn’t even bother going to class. I just sat in the lunch room, pouring over the Grimoire of the Wolf again and again, finally going to the library to wait for Christi.
I was kind of surprised when she actually showed up a few minutes later.
"Hello," I said. "How are you today?"
I was trying to sound cheerful.
Christi sighed, "As well as can be expected, in light of what happened this weekend… and what could have."
"It’s not your fault," I told her gently, reaching out to put my hand over hers… I stopped short, though, and simply put it near.
"Oh?" she demanded. "Then whose fault is it?"
"If anyone’s at all, it’s the fault of whoever or whatever put the curse upon you. It’s not your fault at all."
"That’s right. You remember when you asked me if there was a cure?"
"Of course. You said there weren’t any that were reliable…" she paused, and her eyes lit up. "…but there’s the Ritual…" then she slumped again. "But where on earth will we ever find it?"
I smiled broadly. "How do you think I knew about it?"
"The Grimoire… you mean it has it?"
"In full detail. Aaron says he can get all the components for me, and help us draw the Circles." I pulled out the Grimoire of the Wolf, and turned it to the pages with the Ritual of Greater Lycanthropy. "It’s all here, and Aaron says he can’t find anything missing or skewed. Do you want to do this?"
"Christi gave me an evil glare. "Of course I want to be free of this curse. But how is being a Greater werewolf going to be better?"
"You can control the Change… any time, any where. Well, except at the Solstice and Equinox, but… in some ways, it can be better than being human."
"Oh?" she asked sarcastically, "How?"
"If anyone tires to mess with you… the Change, to my understanding, takes only about ten seconds or so."
A wicked glint came into her eyes. "I see… okay, you’ve convinced me… it certainly can’t be any worse than this."
We started spending all of our time together, most of the time, we talked about what we’d need for the Ritual, and how we’d get the money for it (we certainly weren’t just going to give Aaron a wish list without any funding… he’d probably get what he needed without any if we didn’t). We also just started talking a lot.
We got a few funny looks from some people, but I couldn’t have cared less, and if Christi noticed, she didn’t ever mention it.
It was March, now, and almost time for the New Moon. Christi and I were walking down the hall with Aaron, discussing what we’d need for the first part of the Ritual, which was to be performed on the New Moon.
Out of nowhere—well, actually out of the hall to the left—Vincent stepped up. Vincent was a tall, skinny black boy with good connections. Christi had, on occasion, hung out with his group because a few of her friends were a part of it. Vincent did not look terribly happy at the moment.
"Yo, bitch," he said to Aaron and I. "You be those freaky people, ain’t you? I thought so. What choo doin’ wi’ onena my girls?"
I looked at him blankly for a moment, then looked over at Christi. "You’re one of his girls?"
She shook her head, making an "I don’t know" gesture.
"And you have some sort of exclusive right to talk to any female who’s been in your presence for longer than the duration of a class?" I asked hem in a curious manner.
"Shut cho’ ass, bitch! Did ah ax you? Now get away from her," Vincent went on, pushing me back, "white boy. I don’t like you."
Calmly, as I staggered and tried to maintain my footing, Aaron took Vincent by the shoulder and turned him so that their eyes met. Aaron’s eyes almost seemed to glow, and Vincent clutched and clawed at his chest before falling to the floor, mouth gaping and eyes bulging.
I found myself clutching Christina’s hand for support, until what seemed like hours later, Vincent spasmed and gasped for air.
"What did you do to him," we demanded of Aaron at very nearly the same instant.
"I stopped his heart."
"You what?"
"I stopped his heart… but I did allow it to start again."
"I find little comfort in the fact that you can do that sort of thing, Aaron." I told him quietly.
"You saw me cage a werewolf in her own aura, then at the same time build a Circle out of fire to contain her. That’s far more difficult and complicated than stopping a heart, Jeff."
"Be that as it may… they do not quite seem to be the same thing."
Aaron looked at me closely. "Are you afraid I might do the same to you?"
Christi and I nodded sheepishly.
Aaron took us by the shoulders and shook us gently. "You need never worry of that. You—and all of our Society—are too dear to me. You are my only friends this side of the Veil, and you are far more important than you can ever know. My Sight makes for a lonely life, and you fill much of the void."
We gaped in silence for a while as Aaron looked back and forth between the two of us, meeting first my eyes, then hers as we stood there in the fast-emptying halls of the high school after last hour. Aaron looked at us both, then, and smiled slightly.
"Find somewhere conveniently elsewhere," he suggested, locking gazes with both of us in turn. "This location will not be safe, once someone reports Vincent lying on the ground ‘dead’… and make it somewhere where you can be alone… because we all know that you both want it."
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Aaron turned us and pushed us along our way. Once we had left the building, we turned to each other.
"Is he right?" I asked her quietly, reaching out for her hand again.
"Yes," she told me, taking it, "though I wasn’t sure how exactly to say it."
"Me, too… but… was that just my thought back there, or was Aaron in our heads…?"
"If you’re talking about…" Christi blushed beet red. "I think so…"
I’m not quite sure what he put in her head, but mine… well… what do a lot of people think the Yin-Yang means? Right. Or, for you who are slightly less perceptive: two numbers: six, nine. I thought you could figure it out.
With the aid of Aaron and Melissa—who would not allow her back yard to be used for the Ritual without watching the escapade—we managed to perform the First Ceremony of the Ritual of Greater Lycanthropy. The Ceremony was a purification of the mind and body, and the first step to balancing the Man (and I use the term very loosely) and the Wolf within.
Aaron did most of the work: drawing the Circle of Power and activating it with six drops of his blood; preparing the tools and components, and leading me through the incantations and gestures.
When dawn came, the Ceremony was complete, and we took the tents that Eric had set up for us the night before.
When we awoke, however, Aaron informed us that the Second Ritual must be performed without witnesses… and that it was up to us to do it alone. We would need to prepare, and keep our bodies pure: no sex, no drugs, no fish, no white meat… and a few other things which surprised and embarrassed us, but which I will fail to mention for various reasons. Come the Full Moon, we must be prepared to meet at the Circle before seven… which would be made difficult by the fact that it was a school night. Aaron would have the materials and implements prepared. The rest was up to us.
The night of the Full Moon came with much anticipation, and more than a little dread. If we failed, not only would Christi not be transformed from lesser to Greater, but the Circle would crack and she would be set loose upon me and the countryside.
The Second and Final Ceremony of the Ritual of Greater Lycanthropy began precisely at seven. With careful precision, we re-activated the Circle of Power. Christi stood at the center of the Circle, preparing with a silent prayer to whichever God or Gods chose to listen. Once the Ceremony was prepared, the waiting began. We talked quietly for the three hours before the ritual began in earnest; her sitting in the center of the activated Circle, I just outside the circle and it’s glowing rune-symbols.
We talked about everything… about the past, about the future, waiting for the Moon to rise high enough in the sky.
When the time came, we were ready.
Christina stood in the center of the Circle, arms outstretched to embrace the moonlight. Outside the Circle, I chanted the ancient words that Aaron had taught me to read, and spread the wolf’sbane at the four cardinal points. I drew the knife Aaron had given me, and in the reverse order (West, South, East, North) I spilt a drop of blood on each of the points. The Moon reached it’s zenith, and the transformation began: Christi grew a few inches in height, and quite a few in breadth and girth. Reddish-brown hair erupted all over her body, and her clothes ripped and fell to the ground. She howled, and I threw two drops of my blood onto her. The Circle of Power blazed with light, and Christina-the-Wolf screamed as I spoke more guttural syllables that meant power of a kind I could barely comprehend.
The Moon passed it’s zenith as I continued to chant, and the Circle died… which meant one of two things: either we had succeeded, and Christi was now a Greater lycanthrope, or we had failed, and she was not… and I was about to die horribly.
"Where… where am I?" a snarling, rasping voice growled out. "What am I?"
"Christi?"
"Jeff? Is it you? You look… smell… sound different…"
"I do?" I asked, incredulous. "I’m different?"
The monstrous Wolf looked down. "Well… from this prospective you are. How do I turn back, now?"
"You just concentrate, I think."
The Wolf sat down on it’s—or her, rather for it was Christi, under all that fur—and didn’t move for some time. After a few minutes, she began to shrink, and her limbs and bones realigned themselves with a nauseating accompaniment of popping and sucking. Finally, in a gust of wind, the fur fell off to reveal a very human, very beautiful, and very naked young woman.
"It worked," she whispered. "I’m free…"
Standing up, she walked over to me (I tried not to stare, really I did) and wrapped her bare white arms around me.
"Thank you," she said, squeezing me tightly. "Thank you."
Christi stepped back, looking at me long and hard, then pulled my head down to hers, and put her lips to mine… and we did not part until very nearly dawn.