This story was intended for Sonia G. Medeiros' September Writing Challenge (Fairy Tales) on her blog. However, life got in the way, and before for I knew it, it was the middle of September. I went ahead and finished the story and felt that it sort of fit Sonia's October Writing Challenge (Masks). And so here it is. It's the darkest story I've ever written. So hopefully, if you like a little horror, you will find something to like in it.
* * *
Angelique and the Loup-Garou
“Haven’t you heard about the coyote?” the man said as he stepped out of the shadows. The girl started and let out a squeak. This pleased the man, and he had to use all his willpower not to smile.
“God you scared me,” the girl said.
She was now facing the man clutching her red wool coat. Her dark eyes were wide open as were her red lips. The man’s eyes slid down the girl’s body. As his eyes reached her thighs, he was happy to discover that she was a slave to fashion. She wore a short skirt and no tights, despite the cold wind that drove wispy clouds past the moon and blew leaves around her bare legs.
“You gave me a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry, but you really should be more careful.” The girl’s red coat partially obscured her figure, but revealed enough for the man to know she would make a delicious meal. “It’s dangerous to be outside after dark. Haven’t you heard about the coyote that mauled that girl?”
“Oh yeah, I guess I remember hearing something about that.”
The balding man took a step forward. The girl took a step back.
“But you’re still out, alone?”
“I have to. My friend’s sick. I’m taking her homework to her.”
“Ah, that’s very kind of you.” He took another step toward her. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to walk you to your friend’s?”
“Me?" The girl smiled. "No. My dad thinks I’m too young for that.”
“Really? You seem old enough to me.”
The girl looked down and shrugged. The man could not be sure in the dim light provided by the street lights, but he thought he detected a blush rising across the girl’s face. He took another step forward. “I hope your friend’s house isn’t too far away then?”
The girl took another step back. “Just at the end of the block,” she said as she pointed vaguely over her shoulder.
“Well, you better run along,” the man said.
“Yeah, I guess so,” the girl said. She turned and half walked, half ran down the sidewalk.
The man dug into the pocket and pulled out a small vial. Removing the cork he drank the foul tasting liquid in one gulp. He knew that during the transformation he would suffer some disorientation and pain. However, he did not mind that. He knew the girl’s pain would be much worse and last much longer.
* * *
With the transformation complete, the man quickly caught up to the girl. She was crossing a driveway between two brick colonials when he pounced, his claws extended. He should have hit her square in the shoulders. She should have been thrown to the ground with his fangs around her throat to stifle any scream.
But somehow he missed. Instead he sailed over her and landed on the leaf -covered lawn and tumbled. Must’ve rushed things. Didn’t let the potion do its thing. Messed up my timing. He righted himself and rose to his hind legs, towering over her. She was transfixed and looked at him with wide eyes. She no longer saw a balding middle-aged man. She saw a fanged beast. My true face.
He moved forward and extended his clawed hand toward her white throat. This time she did not step back.
First, the man was blinded by a green flash of light. Then he was deafened by a loud boom. Part of his brain told him that he had been struck by lightning. Another part of his brain reminded him that the sky was mostly clear and so lightning was impossible. This inner debate swiftly ended as a burning sensation spread from his chest to his limbs. He howled in pain and fell down on all fours.
The bitch shot me. He looked up at the girl expecting to see a gun in her hand. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled. A bullet was not going to stop him. He tried to stand up, but his limbs did not respond. The man collapsed onto his side.
The girl stood before him. For a moment, she appeared as she had when he first saw her. Then the wind blew and swirled around the girl, and her red coat and her skirt cracked into hundreds of leaf-shaped pieces. Their color faded to the brown of dead leaves. In an instant the leaves tumbled to the ground. Not just her clothes had crumbled, but also her white skin and blond hair, adding to the pile of leaves at her feet.
The man blinked. Before him stood a woman, or was it a young girl? He could not tell. She now wore close-fitting pants, a billowy shirt with lace at the wrists and throat, and a long jacket with wide cuffs that went almost to her elbows.
Maybe he was in shock. Maybe the potion was bad. Maybe they cut it with something this time. While he desperately tried to make his limbs work, two figures detached themselves from the shadows and joined the girl turned woman. One had a round torso the size of a balance ball, and its arms and legs were no thicker that a broom handle. Its face was a jumble of sharp angles – eyes, nose, ears, and teeth. The other was proportioned like a human, but its face possessed the snout and tucks of a boar. Both were attired similarly to the girl-turned-woman, and both carried long spears with a jumble of blades at their tips.
“What the fuck?”
* * *
In one fluid motion Angelique spun her flintlock pistol on her index finger so that she was holding it by its smoking barrel, and held it out to her boar-faced companion who took it by its grip. “Merci, Henri,” she said.
The boar-faced man grunted as he shoved the pistol into the sash about his waist.
The angular-faced creature hopped and chirped, “Brava! Brava! C'est bon.”
Angelique shrugged. She had been hunting loup-garou in the Pays Sauvage for over two centuries. She sighed and carefully tucked a lose strand of white hair behind her ear before producing a hatchet from inside her coat.
Her prey had partially returned to human form, courtesy of the potent mix she had loaded into her pistol. The dart she had shot into the beast was envenomed with a mixture that counteracted the potion he had taken to transform – but only so far. Being trapped between the two states, caused a weakness in the limbs which made Angelique’s next task easier. She kicked the beast so that he sprawled onto his back, and then pinned his wrist to the ground with her boot. Crouching down, she placed the blade of her hatchet to his throat.
“Bon soir, loup-garou. I am Angelique, Maitresse de la Chasse to la Dame Blanche.”
“What?”
“No, no. I will ask the questions,” she said applying more pressure his throat. “The first is, who gave you the potion?”
“Alchemists...The Alchemists.”
Faster than a human eye could follow, the ax left the beast’s throat, swung in a wide arc, and severed several of the beast’s fingers.
The beast howled in pain.
When the howls subsided into whimpers, Angelique placed the blade of the hatchet between his legs “That was not the information I need. You have other appendages to lose,” she said. “So, I shall ask again. Who gave you the potion?”
“I don’t know their names,” he said. “For Chrissakes, don’t.”
Angelique snorted. “Your puny god from the dusty hills of Canaan cannot save you tonight.” She grabbed one of his ears and yanked it. “If you do not know their names, where did you receive it?”
“Midtown! Midtown!”
Angelique applied more pressure with the blade of her hatchet.
“By I-94 and John R. In this old house.”
“Voila!” the angular-faced creature chirped and hopped again.
Angelique and the boar-faced man exchanged nods. “Tie him to the halberd.” Her two companions worked quickly, tying the loup-garou’s hands and feet to the shaft of the one of their weapons, and the lifted their prey.
The man protested. “What are you doing? I gave you what you wanted. Come on. Let me go.”
Angelique looked down at the beast and smiled. Both potions were leaving his body. He was now simply a naked, hairy man. “I do not recall ever saying I would give you anything for your answers.”
“Ok, ok. I can give you more. Just untie me. We can talk.”
Angelique’s companion’s laughed.
“Look. Do you see that tree?”
The man craned his head. Before his eyes, it split open to reveal the top of a staircase lit by flickering orange light. “No, no. Don’t take me down there. I begging you, let me go.”
Angelique cocked her head. “Ah, you were right Henri. He’s not a simple customer of the Alchemists.” She turned back to the man. “Are you? You seem to know where you are going.”
The man was sobbing now. “Please. I’ll tell you everything. Just don’t take me down there.”
Angelique stroked his face and wiped away some of his tears. “Your kind drove us underground centuries ago. Imprisoned us there, and left us to rot. And now you tell your children insipid stories about pixies and fairy-dust.” Angelique snorted and turned the man’s face to the sky. “Burn those stars into your memory. They shall be dead and a new sky of stars shall be born before your imprisonment ends.” Angelique let go of the man’s face and waved her hand. “Allez.”
The boar-faced man and the angular-face creature began to walk toward the opening in the tree. The man continued to beg and plead, but Angelique ignored him and listened to the sweet song the angular-faced creature tweeted.
The party reached the opening and once all three were descending the stairs, the tree closed up, shutting out the cold air and the starlight.
* * *
Angelique and the Loup-Garou
“Haven’t you heard about the coyote?” the man said as he stepped out of the shadows. The girl started and let out a squeak. This pleased the man, and he had to use all his willpower not to smile.
“God you scared me,” the girl said.
She was now facing the man clutching her red wool coat. Her dark eyes were wide open as were her red lips. The man’s eyes slid down the girl’s body. As his eyes reached her thighs, he was happy to discover that she was a slave to fashion. She wore a short skirt and no tights, despite the cold wind that drove wispy clouds past the moon and blew leaves around her bare legs.
“You gave me a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry, but you really should be more careful.” The girl’s red coat partially obscured her figure, but revealed enough for the man to know she would make a delicious meal. “It’s dangerous to be outside after dark. Haven’t you heard about the coyote that mauled that girl?”
“Oh yeah, I guess I remember hearing something about that.”
The balding man took a step forward. The girl took a step back.
“But you’re still out, alone?”
“I have to. My friend’s sick. I’m taking her homework to her.”
“Ah, that’s very kind of you.” He took another step toward her. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to walk you to your friend’s?”
“Me?" The girl smiled. "No. My dad thinks I’m too young for that.”
“Really? You seem old enough to me.”
The girl looked down and shrugged. The man could not be sure in the dim light provided by the street lights, but he thought he detected a blush rising across the girl’s face. He took another step forward. “I hope your friend’s house isn’t too far away then?”
The girl took another step back. “Just at the end of the block,” she said as she pointed vaguely over her shoulder.
“Well, you better run along,” the man said.
“Yeah, I guess so,” the girl said. She turned and half walked, half ran down the sidewalk.
The man dug into the pocket and pulled out a small vial. Removing the cork he drank the foul tasting liquid in one gulp. He knew that during the transformation he would suffer some disorientation and pain. However, he did not mind that. He knew the girl’s pain would be much worse and last much longer.
* * *
With the transformation complete, the man quickly caught up to the girl. She was crossing a driveway between two brick colonials when he pounced, his claws extended. He should have hit her square in the shoulders. She should have been thrown to the ground with his fangs around her throat to stifle any scream.
But somehow he missed. Instead he sailed over her and landed on the leaf -covered lawn and tumbled. Must’ve rushed things. Didn’t let the potion do its thing. Messed up my timing. He righted himself and rose to his hind legs, towering over her. She was transfixed and looked at him with wide eyes. She no longer saw a balding middle-aged man. She saw a fanged beast. My true face.
He moved forward and extended his clawed hand toward her white throat. This time she did not step back.
First, the man was blinded by a green flash of light. Then he was deafened by a loud boom. Part of his brain told him that he had been struck by lightning. Another part of his brain reminded him that the sky was mostly clear and so lightning was impossible. This inner debate swiftly ended as a burning sensation spread from his chest to his limbs. He howled in pain and fell down on all fours.
The bitch shot me. He looked up at the girl expecting to see a gun in her hand. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled. A bullet was not going to stop him. He tried to stand up, but his limbs did not respond. The man collapsed onto his side.
The girl stood before him. For a moment, she appeared as she had when he first saw her. Then the wind blew and swirled around the girl, and her red coat and her skirt cracked into hundreds of leaf-shaped pieces. Their color faded to the brown of dead leaves. In an instant the leaves tumbled to the ground. Not just her clothes had crumbled, but also her white skin and blond hair, adding to the pile of leaves at her feet.
The man blinked. Before him stood a woman, or was it a young girl? He could not tell. She now wore close-fitting pants, a billowy shirt with lace at the wrists and throat, and a long jacket with wide cuffs that went almost to her elbows.
Maybe he was in shock. Maybe the potion was bad. Maybe they cut it with something this time. While he desperately tried to make his limbs work, two figures detached themselves from the shadows and joined the girl turned woman. One had a round torso the size of a balance ball, and its arms and legs were no thicker that a broom handle. Its face was a jumble of sharp angles – eyes, nose, ears, and teeth. The other was proportioned like a human, but its face possessed the snout and tucks of a boar. Both were attired similarly to the girl-turned-woman, and both carried long spears with a jumble of blades at their tips.
“What the fuck?”
* * *
In one fluid motion Angelique spun her flintlock pistol on her index finger so that she was holding it by its smoking barrel, and held it out to her boar-faced companion who took it by its grip. “Merci, Henri,” she said.
The boar-faced man grunted as he shoved the pistol into the sash about his waist.
The angular-faced creature hopped and chirped, “Brava! Brava! C'est bon.”
Angelique shrugged. She had been hunting loup-garou in the Pays Sauvage for over two centuries. She sighed and carefully tucked a lose strand of white hair behind her ear before producing a hatchet from inside her coat.
Her prey had partially returned to human form, courtesy of the potent mix she had loaded into her pistol. The dart she had shot into the beast was envenomed with a mixture that counteracted the potion he had taken to transform – but only so far. Being trapped between the two states, caused a weakness in the limbs which made Angelique’s next task easier. She kicked the beast so that he sprawled onto his back, and then pinned his wrist to the ground with her boot. Crouching down, she placed the blade of her hatchet to his throat.
“Bon soir, loup-garou. I am Angelique, Maitresse de la Chasse to la Dame Blanche.”
“What?”
“No, no. I will ask the questions,” she said applying more pressure his throat. “The first is, who gave you the potion?”
“Alchemists...The Alchemists.”
Faster than a human eye could follow, the ax left the beast’s throat, swung in a wide arc, and severed several of the beast’s fingers.
The beast howled in pain.
When the howls subsided into whimpers, Angelique placed the blade of the hatchet between his legs “That was not the information I need. You have other appendages to lose,” she said. “So, I shall ask again. Who gave you the potion?”
“I don’t know their names,” he said. “For Chrissakes, don’t.”
Angelique snorted. “Your puny god from the dusty hills of Canaan cannot save you tonight.” She grabbed one of his ears and yanked it. “If you do not know their names, where did you receive it?”
“Midtown! Midtown!”
Angelique applied more pressure with the blade of her hatchet.
“By I-94 and John R. In this old house.”
“Voila!” the angular-faced creature chirped and hopped again.
Angelique and the boar-faced man exchanged nods. “Tie him to the halberd.” Her two companions worked quickly, tying the loup-garou’s hands and feet to the shaft of the one of their weapons, and the lifted their prey.
The man protested. “What are you doing? I gave you what you wanted. Come on. Let me go.”
Angelique looked down at the beast and smiled. Both potions were leaving his body. He was now simply a naked, hairy man. “I do not recall ever saying I would give you anything for your answers.”
“Ok, ok. I can give you more. Just untie me. We can talk.”
Angelique’s companion’s laughed.
“Look. Do you see that tree?”
The man craned his head. Before his eyes, it split open to reveal the top of a staircase lit by flickering orange light. “No, no. Don’t take me down there. I begging you, let me go.”
Angelique cocked her head. “Ah, you were right Henri. He’s not a simple customer of the Alchemists.” She turned back to the man. “Are you? You seem to know where you are going.”
The man was sobbing now. “Please. I’ll tell you everything. Just don’t take me down there.”
Angelique stroked his face and wiped away some of his tears. “Your kind drove us underground centuries ago. Imprisoned us there, and left us to rot. And now you tell your children insipid stories about pixies and fairy-dust.” Angelique snorted and turned the man’s face to the sky. “Burn those stars into your memory. They shall be dead and a new sky of stars shall be born before your imprisonment ends.” Angelique let go of the man’s face and waved her hand. “Allez.”
The boar-faced man and the angular-face creature began to walk toward the opening in the tree. The man continued to beg and plead, but Angelique ignored him and listened to the sweet song the angular-faced creature tweeted.
The party reached the opening and once all three were descending the stairs, the tree closed up, shutting out the cold air and the starlight.