A Date with a Werewolf by MH Bonham (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📗

If Jim heard me, he didn’t react. He kept walking. “Jim!” I shouted, but my voice was dampened as if a thick blanket got dropped over us. Oh hell, this was serious. Somebody actually set up a dampening spell. I was about to draw my Glock 9mm, when I decided that what I really needed was the Remington 870 shotgun. I dove back in the car and unlocked the shotgun, chambered a round, and ran after Douglas into the darkness.

I hadn’t gotten ten paces when I heard the troll roar and Douglas screaming. Then, a rapid succession of shots as my partner emptied the magazine. As I predicted, shooting it would just make it mad. I saw nothing but darkness, so I cast a quick mage light orb and tossed it toward the thing that blotted out the stars.

I wish I hadn’t.

Above me, some fifty yards away stood a troll—and a big one. If trolls had ugly contests, this one would’ve swept up all the awards. Its long, tangled hair and beard, glowing red eyes, and sharp tusks that protruded out of its lips made for a ghastly ensemble. It wore some kind hairy skins that hung in tatters off of its humongous frame. Apparently it bought its clothes off the rack. I guessed it was maybe fifteen feet tall, give or take a few feet. It held my partner in its clawed fingers. Douglas’s head lolled to one side as the creature shook him.

I couldn’t think what to do at this point. Most weapons are useless against trolls—first year DPDS training taught us to call in a magic user rather than to try to take one down—but they never mentioned what you needed to do if the troll had your partner in its paw. Okay, Douglas was an asshole partner who didn’t follow procedure, but I didn’t think he deserved to be on the troll’s dinner menu. Trolls were impervious to some magic spells, making them a challenge even for wizards. Magic shields and fireballs are pretty useless on them. The shotgun might work at a close enough range, but with Douglas flapping about in its mitts, I was damned if I was going to shoot my partner accidentally.

I keyed the mic on my personal radio and found it dead. Damn, whoever cast that dampening spell made sure it’d take out the electronics. So, I did the only thing I could do.

I opened my mouth.

“Hey Ugly!” I shouted, running toward the troll, waving my hands. “You don’t want him. He tastes really crappy.” I threw some more mage lights at the troll for general principle.

The troll dropped Douglas, seeing a new quarry and started lumbering toward me. Apparently carrying something and chasing something taxed the two brain cells it had. But now I had an angry troll coming right at me. I pointed the shotgun at him and fired. I racked and shot until I emptied the shotgun and then ran like hell, just barely evading the troll’s claws as it tried to grab me.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I panted with each footfall; my lungs burning with the Denver brown cloud. What in the hell was I thinking? Trolls were tough and this one looked about as tough as they came. I still had my sidearm, but seeing how ineffectual the shotgun and Douglas’s rounds were, I really didn’t think I had a chance. I pulled the inhaler out of my pocket as I felt my chest tighten. The asthma I suffered from was mild enough to not get me washed out of Police Academy, but I still had the inhaler for the really bad days. This apparently qualified.

I twisted and made another mage light ball and sent it skipping across the lake. I really didn’t expect the troll would be that stupid enough to fall for it, but I was willing to give it a shot. To my surprise, the troll hesitated and then stomped into Grasmere Lake, sending up columns of water with each step.

I stopped in surprise, but realized I had bought myself time. Crap, I was almost back at the police cruiser, when I remembered I had the latest issue of Alchemy Magic Today in the glove compartment. Yeah, I know, not exactly my best plan. I unlocked the car and pulled the issue out. Casting a small mage light, I thumbed through the pages looking for the spell.

A roar drew my attention. Damn, the troll was coming back. Just as I thought the troll was far enough away, it loomed over the cop car. I opened the door and bailed out none too soon as the creature lifted the car and tossed it end over end down the street. I ran toward the lake, the mage light bouncing along merrily, keeping up with me as I continued to flip through the pages.

There it was—the spell for making ice.

It’s spring in Colorado and I’m trying to do an ice trick that’s meant for parties? I read through the focus words twice—or about as well as one can do running—and then ran to the edge of the lake as the troll came stomping into the water to make a beeline, or in this case, troll-line, toward me.

Frigidam aquam illam! I shouted and touched the water with my hand.

Nothing. The troll reached for me. I leapt to the side and ended up tripping over a root and splashing into the water. Did I say the right words? The magazine was drenched but still in my hand. I shook the water off it, conjured another light spell, and…

The troll grabbed me. He shook me and the magazine flapped into his face. I grabbed it again and this time saw the word I should have said.

Frigidam aquam illam glaciem!

Suddenly a gust of wind picked up as our clothing, the water on my skin, the lake, and everything that was wet suddenly turned to ice. It had gone from a nice cool night to a friggin’ freezing night