By Norm Cowie
“C’mon, boy. Fetch!”
The absolute worst thing you could ever say to a werewolf.
“Beware of Dog.”
Someone had crossed off ‘dog,’ scrawling the word ‘wolf’ in crude letters.
The same person, or perhaps someone else, had scratched off the ‘a,’ replacing it with an ‘e’. So now it now read, “Bewere of Wolf.”
Trug ignored the sign and trotted past the dilapidated house guarding the path to the forest.
The temperature dropped as he crossed the forest’s outermost undergrowth and the noise and bustle of civilization grew muted. His sharp ears could still catch the sounds of humanity behind him, but his attention was on the far more interesting noises and movement of the woods.
He left the path and loped through the underbrush, ducking shrubs and leaping over downed trees. The wind whistled by his ears and the pungent smells of the woods brought a rich array of aromas he’d never encountered. Each scent was its own lavish bouquet, delivered on an olfactory platter that would put the best restaurants to shame.
Suddenly a small creek loomed ahead of him. Without breaking stride, he effortlessly bounded to the other bank.
He felt so free … kind of like doing the naked romp.
Mostly because he was naked.
Suddenly he spied a certain tree that cried ‘territorial marker.’
He spun to a stop, lifted a leg and shot some liquid on it.
That’s what guys do, right?
Something chomped him on the leg and he bit at it. He could smell flea but didn’t think he got the irritating critter.
Then there was a rustle in the leaves. He whipped around and his ears jumped to attention. His nose twitched, trying to pick up scent. Another new thing for him. He’d never felt his nose twitch, much less been able to see it without crossing his eyes. Weird.
Anyway, it was just the wind.
An errant leaf fluttered from an oak and in joyful abandon he leaped high into the air snatching it in his jaws and crunching it with canine glee.
The only thing that would be better would be if a dog, coyote or a wolf showed up. He imagined sniffing its butt. Oh, what wonders. What bliss! There was so much to be learned about the world if people would only realize that the message is in the butt.
Wait, another tree. It must be marked! He spit out the leaf, lifted his leg again and squirted a bit of juice on it.
Suddenly something broke from cover and darted through a bush.
He couldn’t see it very well, but his nose immediately put a name to the object.
Trug’s golden eyes went wide and he thundered after it.
The vampire-trainee frowned in concentration and shifted his hands behind the girl’s neck. He opened his mouth and …
Got slapped on the back of the head.
“Idiot! It’s not a hunk of rawhide. You’ll bruise it if you just masticate it.”
“Chew, you moron. What do they teach you in schools, nowadays? Anyway, you must treat it like a very ripe fruit. Just let your fang slide into the jugular and let the fluid flow to you. We are not savages … like werewolves.” The last words were snarled.
The newly Undead obediently lowered his head to the exposed white neck. As he approached the juicy, throbbing vein, a pool of drool leaked from his mouth onto the pearl skin. He braced himself for another head slap.
Instead, the captive girl began weakly struggling.
“You’re losing her,” the Master said. “Get your glamour back.”
Another slap, “Your glamour!”
“Oh, that hypnotizing thingy?”
The old vampire sighed. “Yes, that ‘hypnotizing thingy.”
He thought ruefully that young vampires were like green belts in karate. They have the talent, but their lack of control made them dangerous.
The young vampire leaned over the girl’s face and stared into her eyes. The void of his black eyes seemed to draw the blue from her eyes like a mini-black hole, and her lids drooped as she relaxed again.
“Very good, young cub, now back to the feeding.”
Excitement mounting, the young vampire leaned in at an angle that popped his neck vertebra. As his lips gently kissed the young girl’s velvet skin, sharp white fangs grew to nasty lethalness and slid into her neck. Suddenly one of her hands shot out, slammed into his face and she bolted upright.
“Jerk! We’re just practicing! You aren’t supposed to really bite!”
“I’m sorr-rry,” he stammered.
Winifred smoothed her dress, “Do you know how hard it was to make my blood pump like a normal human!”
“I said I was sorry,” the vampire wouldn’t meet her eyes.
She turned to the old vampire, while peeling the blue contact lenses from her eyes, “Seriously, if your little boys can’t control themselves, you can just find yourself another ‘victim.”
With an athletic move that would have earned her at least a bronze in the Olympics, she vaulted to her feet and stormed out of the room with a walk that somehow managed to combine predator and sexiness in delicious amounts.
The Master and his protégé were mesmerized by her swaying departure. They might be dead, but they were still guys.
She went into a room and the door slammed behind her.
The two vampires stared at the spot, imprinting the memory. Hey, I said they were guys!
After the moment was exhausted, the Master held out a banana.
“What’s that?” the young vampire asked.
“A banana. You will practice on this.”
“Aw! That’s gross. You know I can’t eat normal food anymore.”
“The better to make sure you are careful in your lessons, young cub. Try not to bruise it.”
With that, the Master vampire faded to mist.
The young vampire grimaced at the banana which mocked him yellowingly.
“Fine,” he groused, and let his fangs come out.
The banana cringed in fear.
Ha, no it didn’t.
I hope you enjoyed this. Now for the bad news: I just started this, so it's going to be awhile before this comes out. Ready for the good news?: Fang Face comes out in a few months. Check it out at www.fangface.homestead.com