Scratch That: - Judy Colella (books for men to read .TXT) 📗

announced a week later at their first major gig. He had subsequently smashed his guitar into wires and splinters on stage that night, something he’d never done before, and the promoter was stupid enough to ask why. Mike had glared, shoved the instrument’s remains into the older man’s chest, and murmured words that sounded suspiciously like an evil incantation.

The keyboard player seemed to be the only one happy with a name change. His real name was Dicken Butticks (just say that out loud and you’ll understand), and he was downright gleeful when the promoter suggested The Keyster. Sadly, that was pretty much along the same lines as his real moniker, but for some reason, he missed the connection. He was only eighteen, and had probably never heard the nickname’s homonym. Perversely, no one told him about it, either.

So ran the thoughts of Mack, computer repairman by day, rock-n-roll drummer by night, once-a-month werewolf. At some point, these ruminations returned to the reason he’d been staring at the calendar in the first place: Deva Stone. He had to wonder what the promoter would have done with that name.

His mind, which in all honesty hadn’t been right since the night he’d been bitten by some random werewolf while camping in his own back yard, did a television-style flashback-dissolve to the night he’d first seen Deva. They’d been playing at one of the local clubs for about a month, and while from his position at the back of the group he could see very little of the audience past the glaring spotlights, he could always make out the first row or two. Populated by familiar faces for the most part, on that night someone new and flat-out gorgeous was standing there, totally into the music, swaying, waving her arms, pumping her fists when the lyrics demanded it, and looking delicious on a number of levels. He was planning to find her after the show and see if she was available, but was that to be? Oh, no, not Mack’s fate. Nope.

Because he could only see the back of Vec’s head during most of the performance, he hadn’t realized at the time that the bass player had also discovered this edible-looking gem in the front row and had already determined to get her attention the second the show was over. Mack recalled cursing his drum set for being in his way – he might have gotten to the edge of the stage first if it hadn’t been for the huge, noisy things. Well, fine, he’d thought. I have options Vec doesn’t, and I’m going to use them, by god!

He did, too. He began shamelessly stalking Deva, first following Vec to see where she lived, then following her to work, back home, and eventually, had the Big Aha! discovery – her evening strolls in the park along one of the jogging trails. That had been the easy part. One of the few advantages of being a werewolf was the ability to move fast and silent, his movements rarely detected by anything less eagle-eyed than…than an eagle.

His difficulty, he knew, would lie in having to control himself in wolf form. The natural tendency was to eat one’s prey. That was it. Nothing more Machiavellian. Jump out at them, scare them stupid, pounce, chomp, kill, and eat. Ta-da. But since he wanted her for more than an evening’s repast, the menu option wasn’t viable. So he had worked on controlling his mind when the next full moon had worked its dark magic on him, and by the second one, he’d been ready.

Being infatuated beyond all hope had also helped his determination when he’d jumped out onto the moonlit path. He’d been able to calm his feral instincts, doing the wolf equivalent of taking long, deep breaths, and made himself stare at her. To his amazement, she’d stared back without screaming. He had whimpered and nearly rolled over for her when he saw that, but his whimper had come out more like a quiet growl, and she’d backed down. That had made him try and tell her it was okay, but again came the growl, even louder this time.

And then she’d sat hard on the path, as if her knees had given out, her look one of pain and deep fear. What to do, what to do? His great idea from the very first had been to turn her so she’d be like him, and they could trot off into the moonlight together. But he was a tad unsure how that worked. Wasn’t he supposed to bite her? Only she looked so frail, her slender yet nicely curved form somewhat on the petite side, and he was afraid that a bite would lead to immediate death, and then he’d have to make her his happy meal for the night after all.

Thus he’d done only other thing he could think of – he’d raked his long, razor-sharp nails across one arm, up by her shoulder, and hoped that would do it. What it did was make her cry, but only a little, which for some crazy reason assured him that she’d be okay. He’d thought briefly about Vec, about how the handsome son-of-a-bitch wasn’t going to win this one, and without knowing wolves could smirk, had smirked. It had thus been one fully self-assured werewolf that had turned away and walked with hauteur into the woods, the little bit of his brain that was still functioning on a human level going, “YESSSSS!” Had he seen his back end the way Deva had, that reaction might have been somewhat less enthusiastic.

Thinking of her now, his vision refocused and he realized he was staring, unseeing, at the calendar glowing at him from the screen of his laptop. Ah. Right. Full moon again in three days. He had to come up with a way to see Deva before then in order to confirm that his scratches had been effective. If they had, he’d want to try and help her with the transition, assuming she didn’t toss him out on his ass for what he’d done. In his human form, he was far from formidable, and...uh-oh. What if she told Vec? He was formidable at six-foot-four, about two hundred and twenty pounds, and all of it muscle. Crap.

Yeah, but she was a freaking werewolf now! Would Vec even want her anymore? Not that she’d be displaying any wolfish behavior until the moon started messing with her DNA, so he probably wouldn’t believe she’d been…what? Wolfed? Wered? Whatever.

“I have to see her,” he told Nobody, his most frequent visitor of late. Nobody answered. He got up and stretched, considered asking Vec for her number, realized how flat-out dumb that idea was, and headed for the door. He knew by now what stores she went to, what her food-shopping days were, where she hung out when she wasn’t either home or at work, and that she liked going to the movies.

She apparently had gone nowhere. His searches were futile, empty, and he concluded (after four hours of shop-hopping) that she must be at home. Since it was Saturday, and early evening by the time he was done looking, there was a better than even chance she was either there or at the movies, the one place he hadn’t checked.

“Will our intrepid heroine’s need for popcorn drive her to the movie theater?” he intoned at the steering wheel.

“No!” he answered himself in a tiny, nasal voice. “Her car will! Ha-ha!”

As has been previously noted, Mack’s mind wasn’t quite right anymore.

A quick drive by her apartment building showed her car parked out front, confirming his suspicions. He could just go up and ring her bell, but how would he explain how he knew where she lived? No, that might go beyond wrong. He pulled out his cell.

“Hey, Vec, it’s Mac. Listen, any chance I could get Deva’s address? I bought too many bottles of Merlot for this recipe I was messing with, and I know you guys like the stuff to drink, so I figured I’d let her have a couple for your next date.”

“Gee, thanks, man. Sure. She lives on Corona, in that Spanish-looking apartment building, uh, unit 1C.”

“Okay. Appreciate it.”

He waited a few seconds, took a deep breath, and dialed Vec’s number for real. The bass player picked up on the third ring.

“What.”

“Uh, hey, Vec, it’s Mac – ”

“No shit. What do you want?”

“Oh. Um, I was wondering if I could get Deva’s address? I bought too m—”

“No! Seriously, dude, leave her alone. I don’t know what the hell happened, but she got some kind of animal scratch and now she’s acting all psycho. I’m gonna wait a few days and see if she gets any better, but right now, I wouldn’t advise going anywhere near her.” He sounded terrified, shaken.

“What do you mean by ‘psycho’? What did she do?”

“She freakin’ bit me, man! Almost bit my lip right off! I needed stitches!”

Mack nearly lost control of the car as he fought to keep his eyeballs from popping out. “W-when did this happen?”

“About three hours or so ago? I don’t know. “

“You, er, sound okay, no speech impediment or anything.”

“That’s because I don’t talk only with my bottom lip, dweeb. Look, I gotta go – oh, yeah, why did you want to see her?”

“Never mind. It’s not important.” He hung up, his mind grappling with several things at once. It seemed she was already exhibiting symptoms of her werewolf nature, which…really? Oh, God. That wasn’t supposed to happen at all! In fact, stuff like that never happened! She wasn’t supposed to want to bite people until after the transformation! And if she’d bitten Vec, did that mean he was going to be a werewolf, too? He suddenly felt like pulling a Thelma and Louise, even without a partner. Yup, driving off a cliff might just solve everything, he told himself in despair.

Well, he’d have to wait, that was all. Not to drive off the cliff - wait until the full moon, and then pay Deva a visit. Once she was in wolf form, all would be well. Maybe. Or not. Worse? Expletive.

“Ya know what? To hell with all that! I’m going to go see her, and the consequences be damned! If that bastard is going to be one of us, then what difference will it make, huh? Yeah. And Deva needs me. She needs me to explain what’s going on, and, and, right.” He sighed, turned the car around, drove half a block further, and stopped in front of her building.

Muttering about things best not repeated, he flung open his door. A long car-horn blast warned him that said door was about to get sheared off and he yanked it shut, narrowly escaping higher insurance premiums. Expletive yet again.

He opened the door a moment later, this time checking for traffic first, and got out. The light of his life was right on the other side of that apartment door, and he was going to find her, explain everything, and capture her heart in the process. Oh, yeah. Good times.

-3-

 

 

 

After finishing her meal, Deva cleaned the kitchen and got undressed. Halfway through the clean-up, something in her had decided that wearing clothing was simply wrong. After all, no one was born