MicroHorror

She said she was a shapeshifter, at which I laughed, attributing it to her slightly drunken state, then told her that she didn’t need to change at all, her present shape looked pretty good to me. She could have been a centerfold in any of the men’s magazines. A real knockout.

She said her name was Talbot, a funny name for a girl, but she made it work. I’m Cassidy. We had met in this dismal bar, seeking shelter from the rainstorm outside; one thing led to another, and soon we were drinking buddies, then before long, we were making out in the hallway to the restrooms.

Talbot was one hot little minky, and in a throaty voice through half-closed striking blue eyes she suggested that we continue this at her place, which wasn’t very far away. It seemed like a good idea.

We laughed as we ran through the rain, the full moon and streetlights of Portland providing just enough light to see by. Talbot suddenly turned down a dark alley, running with surprising speed and grace for someone balancing in high heels on slippery asphalt.

“I’m soaked,” she said in her little girl voice, peeling off her coat and ducking into a deep doorway designed for sheltered deliveries. I followed Talbot, noticing her thin dress was dripping wet, and that she was not wearing any underwear. Everything that counted was perfectly outlined.

“Kiss me, Cassidy,” she demanded, grabbing me with incredible strength for someone so small. Her kiss ended with a nip to my lip. Before I could react, Talbot licked the drop of blood from the cut, rolling it on her tongue.

“Let’s do it,” she cried, ripping her dress off, “right here, right now. Momma’s hungry.” She shivered in her nakedness, prancing out into the middle of the alley, in the still pouring rain, and when the clouds moved so that the moon was visible, she shook. Shook like a creature possessed. Her body changed, got larger, more muscular, hair, then fur, sprouted everywhere as her head elongated, a snout pushed out, ears shot up, fangs protruded and a howl, a werewolf howl, shattered the night’s quiet.

She turned to me, standing on her powerful hind legs, hand claws ready for my blood, muscle and guts. Of course, in the few minutes of her transformation, I hadn’t been idle. Or shocked. I’d pulled out my Azrael .666 holy revolver from its shoulder holster and flicked the safety off.

As she sailed through the air in her killing lunge, I fired an etherblast that lit up the alley and ripped a hole the size of a cherry pie through her chest. My second shot exploded into her open jaws, virtually tearing her lupine head off. I stepped aside as the dead werewolf hit the asphalt, killed in mid-leap.

Oh, did I forget to tell you, I’m a demon slayer? Always prepared, that’s me. I could smell the werewolf on her in the bar, full moon and all, so I decided I would be her prey tonight. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

I traced the cut on my lip with my tongue; it had clotted now. Luckily, Talbot had bitten me while she was still human, so no curse of the werewolf for me.

Talbot was starting to shapeshift grotesquely back to human, so I reached into my pocket, pulled out a nugget of Heavenly Host QuickFire, broke it in half and tossed the brightly flaring pieces onto the corpse. It disintegrated the body in seconds despite the rain which was still coming down hard. Just another day at the office.