“Yeah,”I said. “Before social media no one really paid attention to thisstuff. But it’s not like it isn’t interesting.”
“Interesting,sure, but is it relevant?”
Acrossthe clearing a wolf howled. The sky wasn’t full dark yet but had thatrich deep-blue edging to twilight. Soon, the fat full moon would rise.Our werewolf pack had gathered, like we did every month—or every nowand then, on a blue moon, twice a month. A few of us had alreadyturned, and the wolves yipped and played. Otherswere still in human form, pacing, resisting the call of their otherselves demanding to burst free.
Wewere waiting to see what it meant, this super blood moon thing orwhatever the hell they were calling it this time. What supernaturalforces we’d be subjected to, out of our control and knowledge. Benwas right, it really was exhausting.
Hecontinued. “What if Earth had five moons, hm? What if we were on, like,Jupiter, with thirty moons? Then what would happen? What would it belike being a werewolf on Jupiter?”
“We’dbe crushed under the massive pressure of its atmosphere and tremendousgravitational forces,” I answered.
“Oh.Yeah. I suppose so. So everyone who’s ever talked about a cure forlycanthropy—has anyone suggested just blowing up the moon?”
Ilooked at him, his scruffy brown hair and his scrunched-up, thoughtfulexpression. He was awfully cute.
“No,honey, I don’t think they have.”
Wewere waiting for something—something else, apart from the usualfull-moon madness, to happen. A few more of us shapeshifted. Theclearing had more wolves than people now. Another howl burst out.
“Areyou really worried?” I said, turning so I was curled up next to him.Ben set down the bottle and put his arms around me.
“I’malways worried.”
Yeah.Couple of werewolves in this crazy world? A lot to worry about.
Isaid, “Maybe . . . what if . . . just this once . . . we didn’t worryabout it?”
Anoversized wolf raced up to us, yipped eagerly, and darted away again.The moon was rising. It was time to go.
Benbent his forehead to mine. “You know what? That’s so crazy it justmight work.”
Andthen we all howled at the moon, the inconstant moon, together.
DefiningShadows
THE WINDOWLESS OUTBUILDING near the property’s back fence wasn’t big enoughto be a garage or even a shed. Painted the same pale green as the housetwenty feet away, the mere closet was a place for garden tools and snowshovels, one of a thousand just like it in a neighborhood north ofdowntown Denver. But among the rakesand pruning shears, this one had a body.
Halfa body, rather. Detective Jessi Hardin stood at the open door,regarding the macabre remains. The victim had been cut off at thewaist, and the legs were propped up vertically, as if she’d beenstanding there when she’d been sliced in half and forgotten to falldown. Even stranger, there didn’t seem to be any blood. The gapingwound in the trunk—vertebrae and a few stray organs were visible in ahollow body cavity from which the intestines had been scoopedout—seemed almost cauterized, scorched, the edges of the flesh burnedand bubbled. The thing stank of rotting meat, and flies buzzedeverywhere. She could imagine the swarm that must have poured out whenthe closet door was first opened. By the tailored trousers and blackpumps still in place, Hardin guessed the victim was female. Noidentification had been found. They were still checking ownership ofthe house.
“Toldyou you’ve never seen anything like it,” Detective Patton said.He seemed downright giddy at stumping her.
Well,she had seen something like it, once. A transient had fallen asleep onsome train tracks, and the train had come by and cut the poor bastardin half. But he hadn’t been propped up in a closet later. No one hadseen anything like this, and that was whyPatton had called her. She got the weird ones these days. Frankly, ifit meant she wasn’t on call for cases where the body was an infant witha dozen broken bones, with deadbeat parents insisting they never laid ahand on the kid, she was fine with that.
“Thosearen’t supported, are they?” she said. “They’re just standingupright.” She took a pair of latex gloves from the pocket of her suitjacket and pulled them on. Pressing on the body’s right hip, she gave alittle push—the legs swayed, but didn’t fall over.
“That’screepy,” Patton said, all humor gone. He’d turned a little green.
“Wehave a time of death?” Hardin said.
“Wedon’t have shit,” Patton answered. “A patrol officer found the bodywhen a neighbor called in about the smell. It’s probably been here fordays.”
Apair of CSI techs were crawling all over the lawn, snapping photos andplacing numbered yellow markers where they found evidence around theshed. There weren’t many of the markers, unfortunately. The coronerwould be here soon to haul away the body. Maybe the ME would be able tofigure out who the victim was and how she’d ended up like this.
“Wasthere a padlock on the door?” Hardin said. “Did you have to cut it offto get inside?”
“No,it’s kind of weird,” Patton said. “It had already been cut off, wefound it right next to the door.” He pointed to one of the evidencemarkers and the generic padlock lying next to it.
“Sosomeone had to cut off the lock in order to stow the body in here?”
“Lookslike it. We’re looking for the bolt-cutters. Not to mention the tophalf of the body.”
“Anysign of it at all?” Hardin asked.
“None.It’s not in the house. We’ve got people checking dumpsters around theneighborhood.”
Hardinstepped away from the closet, caught her breath, and tried to set thescene for herself. She couldn’t assume right away that the victim hadlived in the house. But maybe she had. She was almost certain themurder had happened somewhere else, and the body moved to the utilitycloset later. The closet didn’t have enough room for someone to cut abody through the middle, did it? The murderer would have needed a saw.Maybe even a sword.
Unlessit had been done by magic.
Herrational self shied away from that explanation. It was
