The Slayer

A short story by Peloquin

- Brainer

- Brainer!

- Geek!

- Four-eyes!

Megan Parker sighed. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? She never bothered them, did she? As quickly as she could, she walked down the hall, quickly walking out the school front door, almost jumping down the steps, just to get away. Drake had promised her she could watch his new experiment, and she had been looking forward to it all day. He kept saying it would revolutionize the entire world, make nuclear reactors and any other form of energy source obsolete. Drake was like that sometimes, overly dramatic and pompous.

- Raw energy, girl! Pure, safe energy, extracted from the very air! Imagine, to be able to harness the very kinetic energy inherent in the atmosphere, in the ground, in the magnetic fields! Not to speak about the kinetic energy from the Earth’s movement! It is impossible to fail!

Sometimes she wondered. It was quite possible that if she looked up the epitaph "mad scientist" in a dictionary, she would find Drake. He was quite nutty. But he was also a brilliant physicist, publishing a new theory every other year. It had gone so far that if one tossed out a new theory soon after your last, it would be called a "Levinson", after Drake. Still, he was nice. And he was the only adult who understood her.

Being born a wonderchild was no picnic. Her family were plain middle class, and had no understanding for a girl who rather read Stephen Hawking than jumping around in a cheerleading uniform. She had already finished high school, expecting to get a little credit in college, but it seemed the jocks and bimbos were everywhere, picking on the one who never defended herself. Namely Megan. Having finished highschool at fourteen had been bad enough, receiving boos and jeers when she received her diploma, but now, at seventeen, she was already two years ahead of the older students, and that wasn’t tolerated by the Beautiful people, as she called them after a song she liked…

Thinking about the whole mess made her smile, funnily. She had finally tired of wearing non-descript clothes, grey woollen sweaters, drab brown skirts to her ankles, and instead decided to set off a little, and since she already listened to industrial and "goth" music, (god, she hated that title…it made her think of bimbos in black lace, walking around pretending to be vampires, wearing occult symbols and reading Anne Rice…) she began wearing mostly black, black jeans, black sweaters, black overcoat, even in summer…but she never dyed her hair, she preferred it brown, and she kept her round glasses, so she didn’t quite fit in with the goths either, which suited her fine.

But now the taunting and mocking had started again, ever since she won that science scholarship, making the papers.

Still, she always had music to lean back on. She was quite good with a guitar, and her voice was good enough to perform with. She liked music. It never called her names, never laughed her in her face when she tried to say something, never…ah well…

- Hey, Drake! What’re you doin’?

Her friend looked up from the sign in front of the Davids Institute, he was prying it loose with a too small screwdriver for some reason. Pushing back his cokebottle glasses, he stared at the screwdriver as if he didn’t know what to do with it, finally shoving it in his pocket.

- Oh, uh, hi Meg, um, well…

He though about it, and finally remembered.

- Oh yeah, I was prying loose this sign…would you mind lending a hand?

She laughed, digging into the toolbox on the ground, taking out a crowbar.

- The right tool for the right job, Drake…

- Okay, I’ve gone through the differentiality rates, and the kinetic stabilizers…I think I’m about done…

She watched in amazement as he clipped two wires to the sign, and then threw a switch on the device placed nearby on a table. As always, Drake was a sucker for talking dramatically about an experiment, but always performed the thing with no more excitement than he showed when drinking a glass of water.

The sign showed no sign of change. Hm, that was a nice gag, she had to tell Drake that one. All of a sudden it began smoking, finally melting, billowing noxious metal fumes.

- Oh. Damn. Another failure.

Drake looked so sad. She made a mental note to take him out for pizza when she got the time.

She had met Drake Levinson when she first started college. He had been graduating that year, and was an even bigger wiz kid than herself, graduating with offers from ten highly noted science institutes worldwide. But he had stayed here, in Junction, to work at the Davids Institute. Maybe he was weird, but he was still nice, and he was the only friend she had.

- C’mon, Drake, I’ll buy pizza…

Her friend mumbled to himself, still confused, probably wondering what to change about the whole thing.

- Is it her?

The shadow moved towards the man next to it, there was something fluid, serpentlike over the shadow.

- Yes, mistress. She shows all the signs, the birthmark, the allergy, everything. I had the opportunity to check her medical records.

The shadow merely waved a hand, apparently uninterested in his means of procuring answers.

- Keep her under close watch. I would not appreciate one of her kind interfering with my…agenda.

- I will, lady. But, lady, she does not know, and she probably will not manifest. Noone believes in her kind, not these days…

He never saw the shadow move, but suddenly a pale, immensely strong hand held him by the throat, several feet above the ground.

- I do not care. Humans do not believe in my kind either, and I exist, do I not?

The shadow allowed him to choke out a reply, and then dropped him to the ground. It then vanished into the nearby gloom of an alley, whispering in the melodious, soft voice it always used.

- Watch her, or they will find you like they found my last errand boy.

- Luh-lady, they never found…

- Exactly.

The soft chuckle was even worse.

- It’s getting late, Meg, you’d better go home.

She gave him a smile.

- I’m not worried about me. But will you be okay?

He put down the salt shaker, stopping himself from sprinkling salt all over his coffee. He really was a klutz, wasn’t he…

- Oh, uh, I’ll be fine, I got some ideas just now, so I’ll probably be working for a few hours more…

Finally they got up from their booth, she paid the tab and they split up, he going back to the lab, she going back to the dorm.

She’d soon understood why she’d been given a dorm room of her own. It wasn’t because she was the wiz-kid, or her scholarship, or anything like that. It was because noone had wanted to share the same room as some kid who had graduated high school at the age they were still considered kids. The nerd-stamp had been apparent even before she’d arrived. But she kind of liked it that way, having the big room all to herself. And the king-size bed made it even better.

She read for a few hours, a treatise on the existence of neutrinos or not. She never felt herself fall asleep.

Running.

The moon high above, (the moon has nothing to do with this, kit) the fresh scent of the prey, the silence of her padded feet. There. Her prey, unaware of the hunter behind it, sitting wide-eyed in the shade of a tree, looking up. A quick leap, flashing teeth and claws, the taste of blood, the loud snap of a breaking neck.

She sat up, with a small cry. Oh. Oh god. A dream. Just a damn dream. She pulled up the covers, wiping the sweat off her face. Then she looked at her hands. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god…blood. She had blood all over her hands. What…what did she do? What had she done? What was all this?

The man stared at the open window below, seeing with perfect nightvision how the girl had awakened. He wouldn’t tell the mistress he had fallen asleep on watch, there was no need. The girl was plainly no threat. And even if she had been, she would most likely be locked up in some asylum, as they usually did with those of her special breed.

She went into the bathroom, washing her face and hands, then taking off her t-shirt and panties when she found they were also bloodied, she went back to the bedroom and picked up her bedclothes, throwing them in the bathtub, she would have to put them in the stoker in the basement later on. What had she done? Was she sick? Was it her own blood? No. This was…she had found tufts of hair in her bed, and small twigs and a little gravel. What had she done?

She woke up as the morning sun shone in through her window, she must’ve forgotten pulling the drapes last night. Sitting up, she remembered the night in a haze, it must’ve been a dream. A quick check in the bathroom showed nothing, apparently it was a dream…

She didn’t see the spots of blood embedded in the carpet.

Going though her wardrobe, she finally decided on her black dinnerjacket and the blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt would do today. She stood in front of the full figure mirror, and pulled off her t-shirt, (not the same she’d gone to bed with) and stopped.

Who was that in the mirror? She took a closer look. Long, brown hair, almost dark blonde, her skin as usual, but her body…

Did sleepwalkers ever exercize in their sleep? If not, she had gotten a flat, washboard stomach during the night without knowing it. And her skin…all the old zits were gone, not even the old scars were there, as if she’d never had acne in her life. Weird. A look from the side showed her that her bust had increased in size slightly, and that her arms weren’t as skinny as they had been. Hm. As she put on her glasses, she realized that she had seen fine without them all morning, forgetting putting them on. She didn’t need them.

- What the hell is going on?

There was only two classes today, African History and Paleontology, she’d only taken them because she needed to fill her classes. Paleontology went by half asleep, she knew every order of theropoda before, so she hadn’t bothered studying for it. She was expecting a little more from her African History, though.

She got more than a little.

-…and today we’ll be looking into the lycanthrope legends of Northern, Central and Southern Africa, the so called kitty-zone.

There was sporadic giggles from some of the more humorless students, professor Deakins, a tall, imposing black man, was known more for his impressive knowledge of Africa than his wit. The slide projector changed its image to that of a small, egyptian statue, of a womans body with a cat’s head attached.

- Here we have one of the more known Egyptian goddesses, Bast, or Bubasti as she was called in some later translators tongue. Later on, evidence has been found of extensive worship of the goddess, along with, for some reason, the only other cat-headed goddess of the Nile Delta, the lion Hathor, goddess of lust and battle, in this small area.

A map appeared, showing a small area in Central Africa, highlighted in red.

- Now, according to the local legends, these weren’t the goddesses of Egyptian myth, but instead some sort of catspirits born in humans, most often girls, who prowled the jungles at night. In this area, the legends claim these creatures ruled for several hundred generations, until a war with the "white spirits" killed off most of them, the white spirits were not, as some might assume, the white man, but instead probably invading arab slavers.

For some reason she listened intently. She recognized this. It was so familiar, all of it.

(The pale ones had only come during the night, when it was dark. They had ripped asunder their followers with the strength of a hundred elephants, burnt their temples, and slain their kin. And then they had turned on them. Virei being held down by a pale ghost, raped repeatedly, then the ghost sank his teeth in her neck, draining her life’s blood from her body. Mosau chased through the burning forest, her mighty claws shearing the heads off of ten of the attackers, but finally she was defeated and eaten, the funeral pyres burning high that night. But she herself and four others had escaped, they had to seek shelter, they had to hide among the humans again…)

- Ms Parker? Would you mind relating to the class what I just said?

She looked up. Had she fallen asleep? Oh, great…

- Well, pardon me, mr Deakins, I must’ve fallen asleep…

Who the hell said that? The voice had been hers, vaguely, but huskier, a hell of a lot more suggestive, a lot sexier. Mr Deakins gave her a confused look, then went back to the front of the room, not seeming to want to pursue the matter any further.

- All right, class, for next week, read up on Hathor, and produce a twentypage essay on Lycanthropy in legends and folklore, nothing penetrati…uh, I mean, nothing too longwinded, just the basics…class dismissed…

Whoa. Had she made him lose his footing like that? But…she was a nobody, a geek, a loser…

During the afternoon, things got weirder and weirder. Several of the guys, even some of the jocks, stared after her, she even heard a whistle once, and the girls gave her evil glares. But…she was still the weirdo in black! Why were they paying her attention all of a sudden?

She went back to her room as soon as she could, closing and locking the door behind her. This was too weird. Looking in the mirror, she saw her hair had started to straighten, and it was getting darker in color, as if she was dyeing it. Her skin had become even smoother, and her skin color…a few hours ago she was white. Now she had the complexion of someone with mixed heritage, a sort of eggshell bronze. She looked a damn sight better than before.

A look in the mirror revealed an even larger bust than in the morning, and the muscle tone on her body was just getting firmer and firmer, she had no more of the old baby fat, instead her body looked like that of a model, although a bit too muscular. Still, she wasn’t bulky, more like athletic, slim, she looked like the sort of woman who could do a leap into the air, somersault, and land on her feet. On a whim, she leaped, and found herself hanging from the ceiling lamp, as easily as if she had taken an ordinary step.

Quickly, she got out her old leotard and leg warmers, her tennis shoes had to serve as gym shoes. With a towel, she made her way to the gym, it would be empty at this time of day, and she, as one of the trustees, had the key. A quick change later she stood in the center of the gym, prepared to test her newfound abilities.

With one leap, she caught the barr, swinging around it, shifting direction, easily making moves she had seen on the Olympics. She let go in mid swing, made five elegant somersaults in mid air and landed, as quietly as a cat on her feet. She then raised the roman rings to hang just below the ceiling, almost forty feet up.

She leaped, and caught the rings. In pure surprise, she let go, tumbling through the air, but again, landing safely on her feet, as silently as before. And she didn’t even break a sweat.

For the next two hours, she flipped, wheeled, somersaulted and leaped in the air, as if she had been training all her life. But she hadn’t. And now she was at least at the level of an Olympic gymnast, if not beyond. Shaking her head, she made her way to the locker room, showered, and made her way back towards the dorm.

He stared at the young woman exiting. She was the epitome of beauty. Not even his mistress could compare to her. And yet, there was something familiar about her. He had lost track of his target the same morning, not being able to track her, and then this apparition had revealed herself, and he had been lost. He would never tell his mistress this, to her it would be "all is normal", and he could soon be released from this duty. But for now, he wanted to amuse himself…and this woman would do nicely…

She was halfway through the park when strong hands grabbed her from behind, one covering her mouth, the other holding her arms. Panicking, she tried to get a hold on her attacker, but all in vain, soon she found herself on the ground, pinned down on her back, her attacker ripping at the shorts she wore over her leotard.

Something snapped within her.

Suddenly she had reversed the situation, slamming the attacker into a tree with all her might, causing the tree to splinter and almost uproot. The man did not die, however, instead he got up, wiping a mouth filled with his own blood, and spread out his hands. Inchlong claws sprang from his fingertips, (oh shit what is this) and with a single jump he jumped at her, snarling. To her surprise she easily sidestepped the attack, causing him to tumble headlong to the ground, when he got up, turning, she roared.

And almost scared herself witless, as this was not the scream of a woman in distress, but the scream of a big cat, the roar of a lion, or the deep growl of a tiger. The man stared at her, fear plain in his eyes, and suddenly he turned and ran. She almost laughed, he seemed to be more surprised than she was. And then she saw her reflection in a pool of water.

- Oh, Jesus…Oh Jesus H Christ on a motorbike…

In the water, the reflection of a nine foot monster was seen, a hideous mixture between woman and cat. The beast looked surprised, and suddenly, to her horror, she realized something.

That’s me…

- YOU IDIOT!

The shadow held her henchman by the throat again, but this time she was slamming the man against a brick wall, making the red clay crumble and crack. With each sentence, she punctuated by slamming the mans head into the wall again, with no more difficulty than she would have shaking a feather.

- I told you (slam) not to underestimate (slam) the power of her heritage! (slam) And now she has changed, (slam) already, (slam) into the only creature able to fight fairly with my kind! (slam)

The shadow dropped the man to the ground, and the pathetic, bloodied mess got up to his knees, kowtowing before his mistress.

- Oh, please, mistress, I didn’t know, how could I know, I didn’t believe, please forgive me…

The shadow gazed down at him, finally touching a bonewhite hand to his head, gently brushing his hair.

- My poor Armit. You have been a good servant, and I still have use for you, so I suppose you shall have to suffice for a while longer…but remember, one false move, and I’ll make sure they find you…in separate parts of this country, at once…now, who was the young man she seemed to be so familiar with?

Armit scrambled onto his feet, still holding his head downcast.

- Master, he is a scientist, a man named Levinson. He seems to be her only friend.

The shadow smiled, the smile never reaching her eyes.

- Her only friend, yes? Then we shall have to take him away from her…and then the new friend, the beautiful girl from abroad, will come to her, comfort her…and she will be mine. That way, I finish what my brothers began four thousand years ago, and gain a new bodyguard…ingenuous, is it not?

They both laughed, now.

Drake frowned, holding the piece of peeled wiring in his hand. There was something he had forgot. What? Oh, well, he’d know when the time came. Turning on the power, he yelped, quickly switching it off, almost having been electrocuted by the bare wire. So that was it.

- Pathetic.

He turned, still holding the wiring. Outside the door stood…

…the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She was tall, as tall as himself, with pale marble skin (odd, this is California, nobody’s that pale here…), long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, and wore a dark red dress, modern in its cut, but the hemline touched the floor.

- Uh…oh, sorry, who are you? I’m Drake Levinson.

The woman smiled at him, and he felt a rush of pleasure from his toes up.

- Aren’t you going to invite me in?

He dropped the wire, and made for the door, unconsciously trying to straighten his electrified hair.

- Oh, I’m sorry, come in, please.

Another of those heartmelting smiles, as she stepped inside. He pushed the books off a chair, the woman didn’t sit, instead she turned towards him. (What did she mean, "pathetic"?)

- We have a common friend.

- Oh? Who?

She waved a slender hand against the laboratory equipment, on the middle finger was a large gold ring, with the biggest ruby he had ever seen.

- Oh, not a whom…a what…science, to be exact…science has made many a person’s life easier…

She stepped closer to him, he could smell her perfume, a fresh, spicy scent that made him want to go closer to her, just to smell it. Finally she was only inches from his chest, her hand caressing his cheek. And she kissed him. As she kissed him, she was soon kissing his cheek, then his neck, and then…

…with a cry of rage she pushed him aside, she was unusually strong for a woman. Pointing a trembling finger at his chest.

- Remove…that…please…

He looked down. His shirt? He started to unbutton it, but the woman shook her head impatiently.

- Not that…that…

He looked down again, finally realizing she was pointing to the old catholic crucifix he always wore, it had been a gift from his sister. Something inside screamed at him that something was wrong, and finally he resisted the woman, dropping hands he had not noticed raising.

- No…I don’t think so…

The woman gave a sneer of contempt, her beautiful face distorted by the grimace. She slid up to him, as smoothly as a serpent, grasping his throat in one slender hand.

- So be it…too bad…you would have made an excellent companion…

And with a quick flick of her wrist she broke his neck. Dropping him to the floor, she looked around, briefly rummaging through his papers, and finally her eyes caught on the device on the table, and the designs lying next to it. The man was obviously a genius. This design, among so much garbage, as if he did not find it interesting enough. She could already see a plan forming, a plan based on an idea long ignored.

Awake the Elders…

Meg woke up. What a weird dream. Her becoming some sort of monster, beating that strange rapist with the claws, and…she looked around. Her bedroom was a mess, and there was a dent in the ceiling (where you hit your head, kit) that had not been there before. She threw aside her covers and ran to the mirror. She was naked, and loked as…well, she wouldn’t say normal, but at least now she looked human. But her hair was raven black, her body was slim and muscular, her bosom was at least three sizes larger than before, and now…

She flinched, staring in horror at her eyes. Instead of the usual blueish green eyes, they were now a deep, jade green, with the ovalshaped pupils of a cat. Oh man oh man oh man…where the hell did she put her sunglasses? There, there, good. Putting them on, she could still see as if it was bright sunlight.

What was all this?

Who was she?

What was she?

Someone knocked at her door. She scrambled into the old kimono she used as a robe, and pulled out a towel to hide her hair in, then finally walked over and opened the door.

- Yes?

Outside stood a uniformed policeman, a solemn expression clear on his face.

- Are you Megan Parker?

She nodded. What had she done, had she…killed someone, was that why she couldn’t remember everything?

- I’m afraid I have some bad news. It seems a friend of yours has been in an accident, and since you apparently was the last one to see him alive, we was wondering if we could ask you a few questions…?

A friend? Who? She didn’t have that many friends. She indicated the robe, smiling a bit apologetically at the policeman.

- Would you mind if I got dressed first?

The policeman, obviously enjoying the sight of her (sexist pig) nodded after a few seconds, allowing her to close the door. She put on a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, her old Doc Martens had to be good enough as shoes, and her black jacket was conservative enough not to offend anybody. No more trying to get noticed. She wouldn’t need it.

She opened the door, giving the man a nervous grin, she was nervous, no need to act, who had gotten hurt?

- Okay, let’s go.

She stared at the body. Drake? No. Drake couldn’t be dead. Drake was as young as herself, only a little older. But the man on the slab was obviously Drake. It was his face, his hair, his smudged clothes on the stool next to the slab. No. Not Drake. Someone touched her shoulder, and she turned to find a handkerchief held out to her.

- You might need this.

What? She wasn’t crying, was she? Oh, she was. Big, salty tears running down her cheeks, she wiped her eyes with the kerchief. Drake was dead. Dead.

- How…what…

The man behind her, he was the pathologist or something, said something to her.

- What?

- I said, it was most probably an accident. Even if we found fingermarks around his neck, they were from one hand, and it’s impossible to do a thing like that with one hand in that grip, you’d have to have the strength of an elephant in the hand alone. I’d say he fought with someone, but the policemen found no signs of struggle, so…maybe he just fell badly or something…

No. Somehow she knew this was not an accident. Someone had killed Drake. And now he was dead. Just like that. Just like that. Dead. Deceased. For some strange reason an old sketch she’d seen on TV came up, in which that tall British guy was complaining about a dead parrot or something, using about ten different terms for "dead". She started to laugh, but the laugh quickly became hulking sobs, as she sank to the floor, crying.

Drake was dead. Nothing would ever be the same.

The shadow woman leaned against the trunk of a tree, standing on one of its branches. Beside her sat Armit, giggling, juggling a dagger in his hand.

- She has probably broken down about now. Hopefully, I can move in on her tomorrow night.

She raised her head, as if sniffing the air.

- Start the car. Take me to my haven. The sun is coming up.

She just couldn’t understand it. All these years, Drake had always been there. Always around to goof off, to sit and watch Casablanca when she was sad, to make her unhealthy foreign food not even he could pronounce the name of. He had been like the brother she never had. And now he was dead. All the people she had met had said that they knew how she felt, how sorry they were, how horrible it was. What did she care? It wouldn’t bring Drake back, would it? He was dead.

- Hi. Mind if I sit down?

She looked up. A blonde girl, about her age it seemed, stood by the table. She was pretty, real pretty, as pretty as herself, but in a different way, she reminded her of a painting she’d seen once, of a Hungarian noblewoman, as frail as a doll, but still with some kind of strength in her.

- Yeah, okay, whatever.

The girl sat down, she was wearing a baseball jacket and blue jeans, everything seemed to fit her like a second skin. There was…(kill her) something…(kill her kill her kill her kill her) strange about her.

- You okay?

She nodded, briefly. In a way she was. Even though Drake was dead, and this kind of made her feel guilty, but she was a little more worried about herself than over Drake. If only he was alive! She could have talked to him about it, he would have understood! Or at least listened, even if he might’ve tried to psychobabble it away.

- I’m Jessica. I just moved in here, so I’m a little lost.

What did she care about this girl? Probably just another bimbo, trying to locate the nearest frat party.

- Uh-huh.

The girl frowned, and she felt a little guilty again, she shouldn’t take her grief out on other people.

- Okay, I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll go.

The girl stood up again, and started to leave. Megan raised her head. She really should try to call her back (NO!) and apologize, maybe invite her over for a cup of coffee or something. (NEVER! DEATH FIRST!)

- Who the hell said that?

(Me.)

She stood up, running out of the cafeteria. Okay, she really was going crazy, now she was hearing voices too. Getting to her room, she slammed the door shut and locked herself in the bathroom.

- I’m not mad I’m not mad I’m not mad I’m not mad I’m not mad I’m not mad…

(Me not mad.)

- Oh no, not again, what are you!

(I am you.) She stared into the mirror

She stared into the mirror. She was actually talking to herself!

(I am you.)

- I know, you said that, what am I?

(I do not know.)

Frowning, she sat down on the toilet seat, trying to get a grip on the whole thing.

- Uh, you don’t know? What are you then?

(I am you. I am cat.)

- But if you’re me, and you’re a cat, then what does that make me?

(You. And me.)

Oh great, the first multiple personality she had, and it spoke like Forrest Gump. Okay…

- Fine, let’s play this game…what are we?

(Us.)

- God damn it, stop it!

(Stop what?)

- Stop trying to confuse me! Why am I sprouting fur and claws when I get afraid? Why do I suddenly look like something out of Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit edition? What the hell is going on?

(I do not know.)

- Arrgh, it’s like talking to a brick wall! Okay, what is happening to my body?

(You are changing.)

Okay, now we’re getting somewhere…

- Changing into what?

(I do not know. We will see.)

Damn. So much for that idea.

- Why did I look like something out of a horror movie last night?

(You have not finished change.)

- What? Okay, why haven’t I finished changing?

(You do not accept me. When you do, you will finish change.)

- Okay…I accept you. There, finish it.

(No.)

- And why the hell not?

The voice sounded in her head a final time, then disappeared.

(You do not accept me.)

- BLAST IT! I had the girl, and it fouled up! How? How in the name of…could she ignore my Persuasion?

Armit huddled out of reach from his mistress, not wanting to enrage her any more than she already was. She turned towards him, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with fury.

- I know what it is…it is her nature! It is surfacing, and at a time when she is emotionally distraught, so she uses her powers without realizing it! She probably thinks she must have the moon to change, or that she’s been cursed or something!

Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, she lifted him above the ground, smiling at him, as jovial as a cobra, and as charming.

- Well, I’m tired of waiting for the right moment. Take her. Use the things I procured for you, and put her in a box. We are leaving this dreary, disgustingly sunny place!

Armit nodded as soon as she dropped him, and began picking up the high-tech equipment lying on a table. This would work, as long as he kept out of the girl’s reach…

She did another workout, this time even more agile and strong than before, she tried some of the weights this time, not even the heaviest made her strain the slightest. Amazing. Finally, when she realized she wouldn’t get to test her abilities this way, and besides, her heart wasn’t in it any longer, she took a shower and dressed. She was unlocking the door to her room when she felt a sting in her neck. She turned to look what had hit her, but the world blurred, and blackened.

He caught her before she hit the ground, carrying her inside the room, closing the door behind him. Then he opened the window and leaped out, easily carrying her inert body over a shoulder. His mistress would be so pleased.

Drifting in darkness, there was nothing to do but speak to the voice in her head, whenever she started to regain consciousness, someone gave her a shot, and she faded out again. Strangely enough, she could "speak" to the voice in her head without actually talking.

- What have they done to me?

(Poison. No kill us, never kill us, only weaken. Silver cage. No break silver.)

Well, that made sense. If she was…what did Deakins call it? A "lycanthrope", she would have this weakness for silver. And run around howling at the moon, eating people…

(No. Dogs howl. We is cat. And not eat human. Humans no good.)

- What?

(Never eat humans. Wrong.)

She mentally raised an eyebrow. Really?

- Why not? Why is it wrong? Because they are not animals?

(No. All humans animals. But no taste good. Stringy. And mean. Use silver weapons. Kill us. Kill many us.)

Well that made sense…maybe some of the witch burnings in the past had been executing people like her?

(No. We no burn. Only silver hurt.)

Finally they stopped drugging her, and when she slowly woke up from her drugged stupor, she tried getting loose, only to find that she had been handcuffed to the floor of a dank, smelly dungeon it seemed, handcuffed with silver. She tried breaking the chains for a while, but apparently she was no stronger than a normal human when she had silver around her wrists. Damn. The slimy guy she had smacked around in the park looked in through the peephole in the door sometimes, they had undressed her, so he stood there grinning, until she threw a small stone in his face, hitting him between the eyes. He stopped peeping at her then, only occasionally shoving a plate with white bread and a small silver goblet, inside was a dark red fluid she recognized too well. Blood. Was she supposed to drink someone’s blood? God, never! So she just ate the bread, and poured the blood through the grate in the floor.

After the third time, she got a visit from a woman, the slime guy stood behind her.

- Greetings, skinchanger. Yes, I know what you are. You are one of the last true skinchangers in this world, what your kind calls "were-folk". Or as some Egyptian sorcerer put it, "beastmen".

Somehow, she recognized this woman dressed in a red velvet dress. She looked kind of like that blonde girl she’d met briefly.

- Yes, I am, or was, temporarily, Jessica. But my name, at least for the past five centuries or so, is Elizaveta Dokarova, and no, I’m not from Transsylvania. I come here, because you have drunk from my blood three times, and now you are…bound to me.

She thought…oh, good, well, no need to take away her delusions…as subtly as she could, she put on a look of slightly glazed obediance, apparently this worked, because the woman smiled and motioned for the slime guy to remove her chains from the wall.

- I do not release you fully, yet, until the bond holds fast, but I will allow you to accompany me to the meeting…I have something to show both you and the world…

What? Okay, she would follow this woman…for the moment, until she could get her hands untied…

- Armit, sound the bell.

The slime guy, (Armit?) looked up at his…mistress would be the best word, and looked grateful, like a subservient toad. Then he ran off into a corridor, as they continued she could hear the deep gongs of a church bell. The blonde smiled slightly, holding the silver chains in one hand, as they walked down the dark passages.

- This used to be a cathedral, I had some of my mortal servants desecrate the place, and not we…live here…

She was starting to get a clear picture here.

- Are you a vampire?

The woman looked startled, but didn’t suspect anything.

- Why, yes, I am, or what the humans call a vampire, at least…but they have no grasp of what we truly are…one could say the humans developed certain supernatural traits over the eons…some became "vampires", although we prefer the original terms, like Vamphyrii, Succubus or Incubus, or even Nosferatu…"vampire" sounds so much like lawyers, does it not?

She nodded, not wanting to make the blonde suspicious.

- How…old are you?

The woman laughed.

- Dear child, never ask a woman her age…but alright, since it is you asking, I can put it like this. I was old when the cities of Mu and Atlantis fell in the ocean. I walked the courts of the godkings of Jericho, Assyria and Egypt. I watched as the Roman empire rose to power and fell to internal strife. I slaughtered Picts and Celts with the Romans and the later Ottoman Christians, although I never associated with the more pious ones. I hid in the mountains of Wallachia with my kin during the dark ages, and I watched as the nobles of France were annihilated because one king had insulted one of my kind three centuries before, we carry long grudges, girl. I sat and laughed bloody tears in my eyes when the sad little Irishman named Stoker published his yarn about my friend Vlad, and found even more mirth in the pathetic motion picures made about us. They never seem to be able to get over us being infinitely more powerful than them, so they demote us to almost human standards…

The woman fell silent as she approached a huge oaken door, Megan had already surmised that the place was very old, with enough rooms to make it an old cathedral. The door opened, and revealed the grisliest sight she had ever seen. A long table stood in the middle of a huge room, the table was almost sixty feet long, and around it said men and women of all appearances, black men, asian men, white men, and women of the same descriptions. But what they ate was what almost caused her to throw up. On the table lay the corpses of about a dozen people, stripped naked, with huge claw and bite marks over their bodies. The vampires would occasionally bite down on one body, drinking what they found, and to her horror, some of the bodies moved slightly!

As Elizaveta came in the room, all the feasting stopped, and all the guests stood up, bowing or curtsying to their host. Somehow she knew these were not her equals, but that she was not the most powerful one there. That made no sense. The woman tugged at her chains, pulling her to stand, naked in front of the crowd.

- See here, my kin…one of the skinchangers, after so many years, bound and chained…isn’t she sweet? I think I’ll keep her as a pet…

Elizaveta grinned at her, and several of the assembled creatures laughed. Then the vampiress turned again, watching a door opening at the other side of the room.

- Gentlemen? And Ladies, of course. Would you join me? I have something rather extraordinary to show you…

The room they came to was as modern as the church was old, gleaming white walls, stainless steel everywhere, and in the middle of the room stood quite a large device, a box-shaped machine looking more complicated than the insides of a computer. Elizaveta walked forward, turning switches and checking digital readouts. Then she turned towards the mass of vampires waiting at the door.

- As you know, my kin, we have a legend running among our kind. It goes: When the sun no longer rises each morning, the Elders will return, to reclaim the world for us all. Guess what? I have found a way to make it true.

She pulled a final switch, and a lowpitched hum reverberated through the room. The roof above opened, letting in the cold winter night. (Cold? Where were they?) The night was unclouded, so the stars had come out, and the moon hung above everything, shining with a cold blue light. The floor ahead of them opened as well, and something resembling a converted satellite dish, or a high-tech clotheshanger, rose from under it, not stopping until it was above it all. She recognized it. It was the machine Drake had been working on, the night he was killed. But they had altered it, twisted it. Elizaveta threw her arms out extravagantly, shouting.

- Behold, the salvation for us! It may have no name, but it is as ingenuous as the man who thought of it. It will, somehow, blanket the entire world in a field of lightbending particles, bouncing every speck of light back out into space…the world will be forever dark, and the rise of our kinds will be marked by the very next morning, when we will be able to walk among men, and take back our rightful dominion!

Cheers burst from the crowd, and Meg realized she had to stop it. She had to switch off the machine, before morning, and judging from the clock by the wall, that was only an hour away. As quietly as she could, she made her way for the machine. She reached it without anyone stopping her, and as Elizaveta stood there, pompously jabbering about their true heritage, she pulled out as many switches as she could, causing the machine to go dead. And felt a hand around her jaw, lifting her, throwing her against the wall with enough force to stun her. Elizaveta’s voice was the last she heard when she lost consciousness.

- Foolish girl…did you honestly believe I thought you bound? I was but waiting for the moment to break the charade…the damage you did is of no matter, Armit will easily repair it. And you, my girl, will be found dead, drained of all blood, when the morning does not come…

The voice faded away.

Hello?

(Yes?)

Where am I?

(Inside yourself.)

Oh. In my own mind? Oh, cool, "I am truly lost within my own mind…"

(Yes.)

What can I do?

(Accept me.)

But what are you, besides being me.

(I am the part of you that is cat.)

But…yes. You are. And I’ve been afraid of you, wanting you to go away, to stop changing me. I rejected you.

(Yes.)

No more. Whatever you are, you are a part of me, and I need all parts of me. I accept you.

In her mind, she saw an image of herself and an image of the giant catbeast she had become once, and then they blurred at the edges, one growing, the other thinning, until they became one, a mixture between the best of both. Her face was similar to her ordinary face, but it was slightly feline, her lip split in the middle, and her eyes green cat’s eyes. Her body merged and grew until it was a massive version of her normal body, slim but powerful, fullchested and muscular, covered in short, smooth, silky black fur, a long, prehensile tail extending from her lower back, just above her buttocks. Her legs were normal down to her knees, where they turned into the long, powerful hindlegs of a giant cat. Her long, black hair grew even longer, reaching her waist. And her hands and feet grew three inch claws, retracted with no more than a neural impulse, but easily pushed out again. She realized she was no longer hurt, so she opened her eyes, still in her human shape. She knew how to change now, she knew everything about herself. And she knew what she had to do.

Standing up slowly, she whistled. Elizaveta turned, slowly.

She raised her wrists, and the ancient vampiress realized that she had accidentally broken the handcuffs when she manhandled Meg. The "girl" was no longer chained by silver.

- Shall we dance, leech?

She didn’t know where she got the term "leech" from, but apparently this was highly insulting, as the vampires suddenly began changing slightly, not looking so human anymore, twisting into bony, clawed parodies of humans. Showing their true demeanor. Elizaveta was the only one who looked the same, apart from the huge fangs she suddenly displayed in a vicious hiss, and the inch long fingernails.

Meg smiled, and Changed.

The assembled vampires watched in horror as she changed from a petite little naked girl into a nine foot towering catwoman of muscle and claws. Meg smiled. And knew she was no more the same old Meg. She was no longer really Megan Parker, college wiz kid. Now she was a werecat, last in a long line of werecats, a heritage as old as humanity itself. And she had claws of her own. Her smile turned into a snarling roar, as she threw herself at the attacking vampires, tearing in with claw and strength, ignoring every single blow and bite, barely feeling the gunshots from those with weapons. Had she been in an open area, she would probably have lost, but in the lab, the vampires crowded in on themselves, getting in each others way, allowing her to slice and dice them like undead coalslaw. Finally she stood, bloodied, sweating, (at last) surrounded by only four of the ghouls, but these seemed to be the worse, as they seemed to have powers beyond those of the vampiric strength and speed that had proved so inefficient against her.

- C’mon…you wanna play? Let’s play…

Her voice was huskier, she sounded actually sexy now, but the sensuous voice had a hidden growl in it, making the voice sexy but potentially deadly.

The first of the four, armed with hands burning, as if fire could not hurt him. He moved fast, almost too fast, but when he finally lunged after her with a burning fist, she sidestepped him and casually ripped out his throat and spine as he passed her. He fell to the ground, his hands igniting the rest of him, until only his hands lay burning on the floor. Finally they pulverized into ashes as well.

- Guess he wasn’t really fireproof…

The other three, one thin and slender, armed with a thin sword, the other two identical twins, armed only with their perfectly muscled bodies and their clawed hands, but moving in perfect unison. She grinned at them, revealing large, predator teeth, made to chew through flesh and bone.

- Okay, who’s next…okay, how about you, the tag-team from hell…?

The twins made their move, one jabbed at her, but when she ducked, the other gave her a clawed uppercut in the belly, actually causing her to yowl with pain. The twins started hacking away at her, every time she avoided one, the other made his move, until she was bleeding from cuts all over her body. Time to end this. As the first one made another move, she jumped straight up, somersaulting, catching a rafter with her tail, hanging upside down and clawing out the second twin’s ribcage and stomach as he tried to claw where she had stood. When the second twin gurgled and decomposed, the other twin stood dumbstruck, not making any move, until he finally screamed and fell to the floor, decomposing. Apparently he couldn’t live without his brother.

- Double hit…

She dropped lightly to the floor, her cuts healing, only to face the last of them. He raised his sword, and before she had time to move, he ran her through, the sword entering in her throat, exiting through her neck.

- Silver, you feline bitch!

She gurgled, blood welling into her mouth, but finally pulled the sword out, spitting out the blood, her voice gravelly at first but then healing as well.

- Only pure silver, you idiot, not mixed with steel…

The vampire looked at his sword with an almost comically surprised expression, that remained when she swiped his head off with a single blow. She turned towards Elizaveta.

The vampiress stood, taller than before, with extended, clawed hands, in the air above the machine. She grinned, a grimace made worse by the inchlong fangs.

- Come to me, child. Find out what pain I can give you. And I am well traversed in the arts of pain…I have practiced them for many a millennia now…

Meg gave her a weary look.

- Oh, shut up.

With a roar, she leaped at the vampiress, but the monster dodged her attack easily, clawing her across the back, raking deep furrows in her flesh. She screamed in pain, dropping to the floor, but got up immediately, growling.

- Tut tut, little one, do not growl like a rabid dog…you are a cat, act like one…lick yourself, cough up balls of hair, avoid all reletionships, eat only what you find interesting, play with your food…

Elizaveta’s wide grin paled when she realized the werecat had disappeared. Slowly, her brow creased ever so slightly, she sank to the floor.

- You cannot hide from me, you know…I will find you, sooner or later. It will be best if you spare yourself the problem.

Nothing. Occasionally she thought she heard padded feet behind her, but when she turned, nothing. Blast.

- You realize you cannot kill me, don’t you? I am far too old for stakes, and fire do not bother me in the least. Garlic has never been trouble for us, and since you wear no crucifix…

A sound behind her made her turn, and she backed away in fear. The werecat walked calmly towards her, holding two femur bones from one of the deceased vampires on the floor. But that wasn’t what scared her. What scared her was that the femurs were being held up, crossing each other, making a makeshift cross.

- Well, I’ll just have to improvize, then…

Not many knew that true vampires really did fear crosses, and Jewish David’s Stars, and Shinto gates, and Islamic holy words. Because people believed they worked. Deeply. Not just one, or two, but every child, having read about vampires, believed firmly that if he had a cross or some such above his bed, the vampires could not touch him. And it worked. For Faith, True Faith, was one of the most powerful forces on Earth.

Unfortunately for Elizaveta, this also applied in this case.

Meg drove the vampire before her, with the cross held high. She smiled. She would have to put down the cross sooner or later, to switch off the machine. But if she did, the vampiress would attack, and she would die, but if she didn’t stop the machine, she would die, so…the choice was easy. With a final mad grin, she released the cross, throwing the femurs in Elizaveta’s face, causing her to flinch.

When the vampiress was distracted, she swiftly jumped past her, clawing out the bared circuitry of the machine, finally shutting down the humming noise that irritated her sensitive feline ears.

And a hand grasped her arm from behind, pushing it back to the breaking point and beyond. She screamed when the arm broke with a cracking noise. The breath of the fiend behind her wafted into her ear, as the vampire whispered curses in some language long forgotten.

- I’m not the only one, you know, little cat…there are more, where you least expect it…in mayor’s offices, in senates, in the homes of the world leaders…you will never be able to stop us all…

The vampire pulled harder, grinding the broken bone against itself.

-I killed your friend, you know…broke his neck, just like that. I will survive this. .And you still won’t be able to win.

Meg turned, ignoring the pain, twisting loose her arm. It healed instantly.

- I’ll just have to try harder then, won’t I…

Elizaveta, now twisted beyond recognition, giant batlike wings protruding from her back, her dress torn to shreds, her skin bursting where long spikes of bone emerged from her skeleton, her face no longer human, instead skeletal, insane, shrieked at her, the highpitched shriek of a rat, her eyes glowing red. Meg shook her head.

- You know, sweetheart, you’re certainly uglier than a baboon’s butt…

And she started killing the vampire.

First, she ripped off the wings, causing a fountain of blood to gush out of the monster’s back. Then she started breaking off the bone spikes, making Elizaveta scream each time. And finally, holding the vampire with an outstretched arm, by the throat, she smiled at her.

- For a woman who walked the Egyptian courts, you don’t happen to have noticed the likeness between me and one of their gods? You’re out of your league, leech.

- Megan…please, don’t, I’ll give you anything…

The hoarse whispering came out in a pathetic, whining tone. The woman who was Megan shook her head.

- Call me Bast.

And her claws descended, shearing the head off of the vampire.

At first, nothing happened. But then, every body part burst into a bright white flame, consuming the corpse in seconds, leaving not even ashes. She stood there for a while, considering the carnage with some distaste, wondering what to do next.

And then the sun came up, bathing the place with its rays, vaporizing the last remains of the army of undead.

A young woman stood by the highway, backpack by her feet. She was sensibly dressed in the cold New England winter, in a pair of blue jeans, a thick jacket with fur trimming, heavy combat boots and woollen mittens.

Occasionally she would hold out a hand, trying to stop a car. And sometimes she turned and watched the burning ruins of an old church, a broad smile across her beautiful face. She looked perfectly normal, if unusually attractive, and it did not take long for her to catch a ride. The driver, a trucker with a slightly lecherous grin, looked her over as she climbed in.

- Hey girl…there’s a lotta dangers hitchhikin’ this time’a the year…a young girl like yerself should be careful…

The girl opened her backpack slightly, looking at the contents without letting the driver see. More than twenty wooden stakes lay neatly packed, next to a few bottles of what looked like gasoline, and several crucifixes. She smiled, closing the backpack again.

- Oh, I think I’ll be allright…

The End?