"Come on, boy." I raised the baton in front of me, willing power into the lure nimbus.
The beast turned to look at me, nostrils flaring, taloned fingers flexing.
Turned to look at me, away from Sheena, and most importantly, away from the pistol it had torn out of my hands.
Bait for a werewolf. Helluva way to make a living.
It beats punching a timeclock and moving money around, though.
"That's right, Fido. There's nothing for you there. Everything you want is right here."
The beast leapt.
"Missing woman." Lane tossed the file over the table at me. "Sheena Cooper."
"How is that our business?"
"Missing practitioner, then."
I opened the file; saw a wallet-sized snapshot of the woman in question.
"Who took the photo?"
"I did." Lane tilted his head. "So go ahead."
I held the celluloid up against the light, letting it carry sensations to me, of hair bleached white and streaked black, of elaborate outfits that carried with them the soul of the wild woods, interpreted through multiple layers of femininity.
And underlying it all, a yearning for passion.
I closed my eyes, drinking it in, feeling the brush of her hair against my skin, tasting the scent of her perfume-- attar of roses, dabbed on delicately-- and hearing her heartbeat against my ribs.
Then I let her go.
"Impressions?"
"Gothic lolita Riding Hood, looking for a Big Bad Werewolf to make her feel real."
"By the looks of it, she found one."
"Why isn't she in the Office?"
"She declined. Too... urban."
"And now she's gone." I leafed through the docket. "No husband, no children, one ex-boyfriend married in Glasgow, with contact broken off six months ago... how did you get all this?"
"Gordon."
"He's that deep into the system, huh." Leafed through to the end. "No signs of violence--"
"Apart from the front door ripped from its hinges."
"Shattered across the lawn, yes." I paused. "Why outwards?"
"When you find Cooper, ask her."
"Yeah." I closed the folder. "I'll do that little thing."
The beast was fast; fast enough to cross the distance between us in a flash with its claws out. I met it part way, baton flaring blue with disruption as I crashed it down across its forearm, left palm smashing into its ribcage with our combined momentums hard enough that I felt bones break, driving it off to one side.
It bounced off the wall and came back; I brought the baton up between us in both hands to absorb the slash, feeling the shock all the way up to my shoulders as the disruption nimbus flashed again.
"Good doggy." I stomped down, across its knee; felt another crack of breaking bone before it slashed out at me again, not slowed in the least.
Yep. It regenerates, all right.
There's always something.
Monsters are easier to track than humans; humans blend in with other humans, but monsters stick out like a beacon in the night. All you need to do is find a way to get clear of the interference caused by humanity, and bingo.
I'd caught up with it at a minor confluence of lines, carrying an unconscious Cooper over one shoulder.
Actually, it had caught up with me; it had shown a worrying degree of intelligence and drawn me in close enough that my first shot had missed and then I'd had to let the gun go to keep its claws from my throat.
Hence the baton.
I hit the beast eight times in six seconds, the disruption nimbus flaring like a strobe as I struck from the eight axes of attack, bones cracking and slowing it down enough to stop it from killing me as I flung myself away down the alley, circling back towards Cooper and the gun.
Come on, just follow me out a bit more...
I managed to open up a gap, and it leapt at me again.
But slower this time; the disruption nimbus had done its job by unraveling enhancement after enhancement with each hit, forcing the spell structure further and further apart.
You're mine, Fido.
The baton smashed down on the slavering snout of the werewolf form, spraying teeth and blood and slobber in all direction; I rolled my wrist over and wound up for another shot.
Cooper hit me from behind and we both hit the ground.
"Don't hurt him!"
Like I said.
There's always something.
Lane had sent Rin to examine her house. With typical efficiency, she had examined the floor, looked at all the books on her shelf and, most critically, had examined the basement.
"You can tell Lane that the house wasn't invaded."
"It wasn't?"
"No. It's not a werewolf. It's a Creation." She held up a hand. "The basement is a prison. And she's disposed of at least three bodies so far."
"She built it out of parts?"
"I think she used the other victims to prime the spell. And she built the spell onto one person."
"What'd she built?"
"Werewolf. Kind of. It doesn't transform. And it only knows one thing."
"Killing?"
"Love."
I hit the ground rolling; Cooper wasn't as fortunate and smashed down hard.
And the beast roared.
Well, this is going to be good.
Cooper rolled over and thrust a fist at me; shadows detonated around me as I countered through the baton and then slammed the tip into her cheek.
The Creation struggled to its feet.
I should have felt sorry for it; Cooper had kidnapped some hobo off the streets who'd looked like the man she'd loved and had rejected her and then built him into something that would love and obey her, that had loyalty and faithfulness built into its very core, and it had done everything that she'd wanted.
Everything, even those things she hadn't said she'd wanted.
Things like I hate this world. Things like *Take me away from this place where we can be alone together *.
Things like I want you to be a part of me, forever.
I should have, except that Cooper was still throwing down at me.
So I sidestepped as the beast started its lumbering run, putting Cooper between the two of us.
"Don't hurt him! He's mine!" She extended a hand to me again, switching from death magic to fire; in this confined space, I wouldn't be able to hold her off.
So I flung my baton instead.
It tumbled end for end and smashed into her cheek.
And in the frozen moment as the two of them howled in shared pain and agony, I swept up my Kimber and put a fire-enhanced .45 calibre through the near eye socket of the Creation.
"You killed him." Her voice was quiet, confused, her mascara running trails of black tears down ashen-white cheeks. "He wasn't a monster."
"No," I agreed. "He wasn't the monster.
"That's why this round's for you."
I puled the trigger again.
For Kairei, who asked.
Trigger words: Lolita, Werewolf, hobo.
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